


Breathe

by bamelot89



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, F/M, Hurt, Hurt Castiel, M/M, warning: self-harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-02
Updated: 2013-07-27
Packaged: 2017-11-02 21:53:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 21
Words: 83,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/373732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bamelot89/pseuds/bamelot89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Dean is the new kid and everyone seems to like him except for the one person he's most intrigued by. A town plagued by family issues and betrayal, high school is not quite what Dean signed up for.<br/></p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>    <i>“Dean Winchester, this place is criss-crossed with so many fine lines that your raisin brain won’t ever figure it out, so why don’t you just keep your mouth shut, hm?"</i><br/></p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a mix of songs. (Basically just stuff I listened to for mood, inspiration, etc.) I don't even know. Just songs, dude. [38 tracks](http://8tracks.com/castielswings/breathe-a-destiel-mix)  
> Shelter - Birdy / Everything - Lifehouse / Comes and Goes (In Waves) - Greg Laswell / Never Let Me Go - Florence + the Machine / Under the Sheets (Kids at the Bar) - Ellie Goulding / Forever - Fireflight / The Bird and the Worm - The Used / Rebirthing - Skillet / Let It Go - Tenth Avenue North / Daisy - Brand New / Falling Out of Trees - Barcelona / Lost and Found - Katie Herzig / Safe and Sound - Taylor Swift / Landmines - St. Vincent / Hurt Me - Jezabels / At the Bottom - Brand New / L.G. FUAD - Motion City Soundtrack / Little Lion Man - Mumford & Sons / Leave This City - Edmund / Lover's Eyes - Mumford & Sons / When the Devil's Loose - A.A. Bondy / Breathe Me - Sia / I'm in Here (Piano Version) - Sia / Satellite Heart - Anya Marina / Runs in the Family - Amanda Palmer / Use Somebody - Kings of Leon / Good Enough - Evanescence / Maintain the Pain - Miranda Lambert / Raining in Paradise - Tamar Kaprelian / Salt Skin - Ellie Goulding / Near to You - A Fine Frenzy / Lithium - Evanescence / The Only Exception - Paramore / While You Were Asleep - Ok Go / Enchanted - Taylor Swift / Iris - Goo Goo Dolls / Arrival of the Birds - Cinematic Orchestra / Just a Little Bit - Kids of 88

_He told himself he was building up his tolerance. He didn’t like to think of himself as particularly weak, but he certainly wasn’t Mr. Muscle—not by any means. And especially when the numbers weren’t fair. It was how he made himself stronger. He’d be able to take it eventually, that was his goal. He just had to keep working at it, building that tolerance. He’d get there. A little bit deeper, a little bit longer. He was doing this to help himself, to get better._

_That’s what he told himself._

* * *

Calypse High School looked decent enough. Actually, it looked more than decent. The middle school was just across the street, and Dean had just dropped Sam off. After parking the impala in the high school lot, Dean made his way to the front of the school, through one set of double doors, and then another. He’d memorized his schedule the night before, but the folded paper was in his back pocket—just in case.

He walked down the hall to his locker at an easy pace. He had to enter his combination twice, but he managed to get his locker open alright.

“I haven’t seen you around here.”

Dean looked up and saw a group of three girls, two with long dark locks and the other blonde. The brunette with curls was the one who’d spoken.

“Yeah, I’m new. Dean Winchester.”

The blonde raised an eyebrow. “Like the rifle?”

The side of Dean’s mouth quirked up in a smirk. “Yeah, like the rifle,” he confirmed.

“I’m Meg,” the initiator introduced herself. “And this is Ruby and Ruby.”

“Where’re you headed, Winchester?” the dark-haired Ruby asked while blonde Ruby leaned against Dean’s locker door.

“Uh, I’ve got historical literature first off with Mr. Shurley.”

“Oh, you mean Chuck,” Meg said, lips spreading into a smile. “I have him second block. Too bad.” She and the rest of the posse took a few steps back.

“See ya,” the blonde Ruby said before the three girls turned away in unison.

Dean shook his head as they left, not sure what to make of the trio.

He sensed a presence on his other side and turned to see a dark mess of hair emerging from a locker a few feet over. He kept his head low and looked to be in danger of disappearing into his gray hoodie. The guy glanced over at him and Dean got a glimpse of how blue his eyes were—whoa.

“Hey. I’m Dean Winchester,” he automatically introduced himself.

The other boy stared at Dean’s outstretched hand for several seconds. “You’re new,” he eventually said.

Dean withdrew his hand. “Yeah—”

“You don’t want to associate with me,” blue eyes said before grabbing his books and hurrying off.

Dean blinked. Okay, so these people were a little weird.

Mr. Shurley made Dean stand at the front of the class and introduce himself to the class. It might’ve been awkward since Dean’s entire life was pretty much his little brother and his car, but Dean knew how to talk.

“Thank you…Dean,” Mur. Shurley said somewhat uncomfortably. “Why don’t you have a seat next to Michael.” He gestured to one of the two empty chairs.

Dean didn’t think Michael looked very welcoming. The guy with lighter and longer hair who was at the only other table with an empty seat looked much more approachable, but Dean thought he might actually kinda like this teacher and he didn’t want to tick him off. So he slid into the chair next to Michael and took care not to bump him at all or even get anywhere close.

“Please don’t speak to me,” Michael said in an impossibly low, impassive voice. “Next class you will sit elsewhere.”

His speech was weirdly formal, but Dean obliged and didn’t say anything to him.

After class, the other guy with an open seat at his table came up to Dean.

“Apologies about my cousin,” he said. “I’m Gabriel—you can call me Gabe.”

Dean shook his hand. “Dean. What’s up with him?”

“You could say he’s king of the school, I guess. Doesn’t like to be bothered by lesser creatures.”

“And you’re related?”

“Unfortunately,” Gabe said with a sigh. “Though he prefers to pretend we don’t even know each other. He’s got his crowd, I’ve got mine."

Dean vaguely wondered what crowd blue eyes fit into.

“So this is one of those cliquey schools,” Dean ventured a guess.

“You could say that—but it’s a bit of an understatement.”

_Great_ , Dean thought. That was just what he needed. He hoped the middle school was a slightly more welcoming place, for Sammy’s sake.

“You got anywhere to sit at lunch?” Gabe asked.

“I guess not.”

“Find my table. There’ll be a spot for you.” He walked off before Dean could say thanks.

He turned to go to his next class, but ran straight into a firmly built body.

“Sorry—” he immediately apologized.

“Don’t worry about it,” came a smooth voice. “You’re the new guy—Dean…Winchester?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“I’m Lucifer. What’s your next class?”

“Ahh…field biology.”

“Hmm, with Joshua.”

“What?”

“The teacher—everyone calls him Joshua.”

“Oh.” Dean wasn’t quite sure what to make of Lucifer’s tone.

“I believe you’ll have that class with Balthazar. You’d do well not to engage him in conversation.”

Dean frowned. “Why not?”

Lucifer patted Dean’s shoulder, not at all demandingly. “You don’t want to get in with the wrong crowd, Dean.” And then he left.

What the hell was up with this place?

He did have field biology with a guy named Balthazar, but he didn’t make a move to talk to Dean, though Dean felt the guy’s eyes on him a good portion of the time.

When lunch time rolled around, Dean felt like he could relax a little. He had somewhere to sit, so it would be alright.

He scanned the tables, looking for Gabe, but when he saw him, he was faced with a small dilemma. Balthazar was sitting at the table, along with a girl who had the reddest hair Dean had ever laid eyes on. And, of course, Lucifer had caught sight of him, and watched him like he was just waiting to see what Dean would do. Beside him was a smaller boy with dark hair and darker eyes that were also trained on Dean, watching, waiting.

The red-haired girl turned her head and saw Dean hesitating. She waved him over. Her smile was what decided it. He sat between her and Gabe and didn’t think about what he was doing to his social status—he wasn’t even sure who was popular at this place and who wasn’t. Cliques seemed more like sides in a war than actual cliques at this school. 

“You must be Dean,” the girl said. “I’m Anna.”

“Nice to meet you,” Dean said, flashing her a smile.

“And this is Balthazar,” Gabe introduced.

“Yes, we had biology together,” Balthazar said, surprising Dean with an accent.

Dean saw Anna tense up and followed her stare to a tall blonde making her way to the table. Her mouth was wide and eyes a little too far apart, but she was still extremely attractive.

“Here we go,” Dean heard Gabe mutter.

“Hello, boys,” she said in a sing-song voice. “Anna.”

“What do you want, Lilith?” Anna asked in a calm voice, but her warm brown eyes were suddenly shooting daggers.

“Oh, don’t be like that, sweetie,” she said, sliding in next to Balthazar.

“Why don’t you go back to Luci’s lap,” Balthazar suggested. “His dick’s probably getting cold without your ass.”

Lilith’s lips spread into a slow grin. “You’d do well to watch your tongue, Balthazar. You and Lucifer _were_ once family, you know.”

Dean’s brow furrowed. Gabe and Michael? Balthazar and Lucifer? Wasn’t family supposed to stick together?

“I actually came to offer Dean a place at our table. We do have a bit more fun than these bums,” she said, sliding an arm around Balthazar. Dean immediately thought, _Snake._

Balthazar was on his feet in a split second, fingers wrapped tight around Lilith’s wrist. “You, my dear, would do well to keep your hands off me.”

“ _Balthazar_."

Everyone turned to look at the source of the voice.

“Control yourself.” Beady eyes bore into Balthazar’s until he released his grip on Lilith and sat back down in submission. Lilith stood and left without another word, though she did cast Dean one final glance.

“I don’t want to see another outburst like that,” beady eyes reprimanded. Dean’s eyes followed him until he sat at the table where Michael was.

“Who was that?”

I believe I was wrong in telling you Michael was king,” Gabe said. “He’s more of a prince. Zachariah is the more appropriate king.”

* * *

In his first day, Dean learned more than he thought possible about the school’s hierarchy.

1\. Zachariah’s word was law, but there were always rebels.

2.Michael was next in line. But mostly he just wanted to be left alone. (He wasn’t a fan of high school.)

3.Lucifer and Lilith had a thing and there were rumors that brunette Ruby was a part of the thing, but she denied it.

4\. Meg and Ruby2 used to run with Crowley and Lucifer, but Meg got sick of being told what to do, and she and Ruby2 were practically sisters, so the three of them broke off, which complicated things with Azazel, because Meg and Azazel used to sort of have a thing and Azazel had a friend named Alastair that apparently you never wanted to fuck with.

5\. (This is where it got weird…er.) Lucifer and Michael were twins. Zachariah was the older brother. Lucifer emancipated from his parents in order to get away from Zach. No one knew Michael’s thought and feelings on the situation.

6\. Half the school was related one way or another, whether by blood or marriage or whatever. Balthazar was Lucifer’s half-brother (so also Mike and Zach’s.)

7\. This meant Gabe and Balthazar were somehow related.

8\. This place was a time bomb, just waiting to explode into all-out war.

9\. Anna had a step-brother in middle school, but now he was an ex-step-brother because their parents had gotten a divorce. She didn’t go into details.

10\. Anna’s ex-step-brother was blue eyes. Blue eyes’ name was Castiel.

Second block that day, Dean had art—more specifically, painting. He hadn’t wanted to take it, but he needed another class and it was the first one on the list with an opening. Anna’s mother, Mrs. Milton, taught the class.

Dean liked Anna. Gabe was an okay guy too and Balthazar was tolerable. All the same, he still missed Jo and Ash and Garth and Adam. They were going to hang out over the weekend and Dean thought maybe he’d invite Anna and Gabe (and Balthazar, to be polite) to come along. He had a feeling Gabe and Ash would hit it off and that way there would be another girl besides Jo—not that that had ever been a problem, but still.

Moments before the bell rang, one last student came through the door—Castiel. He headed to a completely empty table in the back of the room.

“Good morning,” Mrs. Milton greeted.

“Good morning,” the class echoed. The dull tone suggested this was a routine thing.

“As everyone probably already knows, we have a new student, Dean Winchester. I hope everyone makes him feel very welcome here.” Dean got the feeling this woman was blind to Calypse High’s ways. Or she just chose to ignore them.

“Now, new project. We talked about it last class. Remember, _think medieval_. Style, subject matter, colors. Just think medieval. I’ve got to go make a phone call. Castiel, why don’t you explain the project to Dean and show him where everything is? I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She left the room, heels clicking against the linoleum floor.

Dean wandered back to where Castiel was, the boy’s bright blue eyes glued to the table.

“So…you’re Castiel.”

“I’m sure someone else could explain the project to you,” Cas said quietly. He stood quickly and went to a back room. Dean followed.

“So we’re supposed to paint something medieval? Like, castles, kings, queens?”

“You really don’t want to be seen with me.” It sounded like he was warning Dean.

“Why, whose side are you on?” Dean half joked.

“No one’s." Cas reached to the top shelf and grabbed a canvas, his hoodie—the same one as yesterday—sliding up his skinny little arm.

“You and Anna were step-siblings, weren’t you?”

“What of it?” Cas snapped.

Dean held his hands up, showing he’d meant no harm. “Why not hang out with her?”

“Because. It’s better for them if I stay away.”

Castiel started to leave the room, so Dean grabbed a canvas and hurried after him.

“Well, I don’t really give a shit about social status,” Dean said, setting his canvas beside Cas’.

Cas sighed. “You will. I’ll show you where the paints and brushes are.”


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel found Dean very likable. And that was a problem. Castiel had to avoid people he liked to keep them from getting drug down with him. Anna, Gabe, Balthazar. They were better off without him.

See, Castiel was the school punching bag. Before everything had gone to hell, when everyone had at least not hated each other, Castiel had tried to get along with everyone. Zachariah had tolerated him, Michael even spoke to him sometimes (Michael never really spoke to anyone unless he had to), and he even recalled a few good times with Crowley. Lucifer had been kind to him, he and Meg had a fling in middle school (mutual break up, they’d just been stupid kids), and he’d always gotten along with Balthazar and Gabe. He hadn’t known Anna too well until sixth grade when their parents started dating. By the start of seventh grade, they were married, and the summer before Castiel and Anna’s freshmen year, they were divorced. Castiel couldn’t say he blamed them, really. His dad was a dick. Even if he didn’t act like it all the time. He was just good at wearing a mask and putting on a show.

Then Zachariah and Lucifer reached the point of no return and the Arch family splintered into pieces. Nobody talked about what happened. Nobody was allowed to. Lucifer turned into something of a sympathized rebel and Michael shut down completely. Meg got with Azazel, but Azazel put his friendship with Lucifer above his relationship with Meg and she got jealous (or, got tired of people thinking she was Lucifer’s bitch, according to the cover story). Ruby and Ruby followed Meg out. Balthazar, Anna, and Gabe slipped away slowly and silently from their once friends. One would have thought Uriel would’ve gone with them, but he curled up comfortably in Zachariah’s lap. He played the part of a pathetically loyal dog and Castiel might’ve pitied him once. He still wasn’t sure what Crowley’s intentions were, but he was smart enough to know Crowley didn’t really like Lucifer, he only acted.

And so, Castiel was left trying to glue impossibly broken pieces back together and only ended up getting cut.

The first one to turn against him had been Uriel. Coming back to school after Christmas break in ninth grade, Castiel had made the mistake of sitting at Michael’s table and then going over to Lucifer’s. After the final bell, Uriel cornered Castiel behind the school and nearly broke his ribs. Castiel took it without much protest and was left shaking by the dumpster. Anna found him there an hour later and tried to get it out of him what had happened, but Castiel didn’t want to betray Uriel. Looking back, he had to laugh at himself. Him. Betray Uriel. Right. He deserved what he got—he couldn’t choose a side then and it was too late now. It didn’t take long for everyone to start hating him then. There was some unspoken rule that said he couldn’t abstain from choosing who he belonged with. He had to pick one and he had chosen none—which apparently made him a traitor. Or something. Anna, Gabe, and Balthazar had offered plenty of times to take him in, but that was after everyone had begun to despise him. He figured his disease—whatever it was—might be contagious, and thought it best to stay away from them. Especially after Ruby had tried to claw Anna’s eyes out after seeing the two talking one day after school. Castiel knew then that he had to cut them off completely.

And now, here was this new kid, Dean Winchester. And he couldn’t shake the idiot. He obviously just didn’t understand how this place worked. But he would, eventually, and he would come to regret ever even looking at Castiel.

“Isn’t this assignment kind of…broad?” Dean asked, frowning at his blank canvas.

Castiel was squeezing paint out of tubes onto his palette. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do yet, but he’d absentmindedly grabbed varying shades of green.

“Yes. But that’s the only way to get the kids to do anything without having constant whining and complaining.”

“Oh.” Dean stared at the white in front of him a while longer.

Castiel sighed. “What’s the first thing you think of when someone says medieval?”

Dean shrugged. “I dunno.”

“Well, when you do, start painting it. You shouldn’t have to think too hard, but don’t strain yourself.” Castiel immediately bit his tongue. He hadn’t said so many words at once in quite some time and he hadn’t joked in years. When Dean realized how much he hated him, Castiel was going to pay for ever opening his mouth. Silence was the best option.

A smile played at Dean’s lips. “Real funny, Cas.”

Castiel’s hand froze midair, paintbrush in hand, at the nickname. The moment seemed to drag on for hours until Dean finally said, “Sorry…no nicknames?”

Castiel’s brow furrowed. He was setting himself up here. He didn’t have friends, he didn’t want friends. Well, okay, that was a lie. Castiel did want friends, but if he had any friends at all, he wouldn’t be friends with them in the first place.

“No…” He couldn’t really think of what to say, but he hadn’t meant to answer no to Dean’s question. “I…” He gave up and tried to focus on what he was going to paint.  
Ten minutes or so later, Dean finally got some paint and a paintbrush. Castiel tuned the world out and focused on the colors in front of him. Think medieval. The church was medieval. It was corrupt. Castiel didn’t want to make something that was corrupt. Angels were related to the church—they were heavenly beings, not human and distorted. Angels were pure. Nature was pure. Nature was green. A nature angel. Cas smiled to himself from inside his own head.

* * * 

“Castiel.”

He dragged his name out syllable by syllable and Cas wanted to bang his head against a wall for being so stupid earlier. He should never have spoken to Dean. He’d known from the beginning it was a mistake.

Lucifer cocked his head to the side, flanked by two other guys he was often seen with. "What are you doing?"

Cas kept his mouth shut, knowing nothing he said would change anything.

"Dean is new," Lucifer said, as if Cas was an idiot and didn't know. "He doesn't know how things work around here yet. I don't want you misleading him."

Cas was going to miss the bus. Which meant he was going to walk home. And he'd rather walk home without getting beat up today, if at all possible.

Only, luck was never on Castiel's side, so he ended up making his way home with a bloody nose and bruised arm. Life offered him a small apology when he got to the house and found no sign of his dad. He fell onto his bed and lazily heaped the blankets over himself. It seemed like he was cold all the time, the nippy October going straight to his bones. He closed his eyes, intending to get up after a few minutes, but instead he woke up several hours later. The house was dark and quiet, and Castiel figured his dad still wasn't home. He was probably at the bar and though Cas was glad he wasn't at the house, he knew that when he did come home it would be worse than usual.  
Castiel made his way slowly to the bathroom and took a look at his injuries. Most of the blood had been rubbed off his face while he slept, but he had an ugly purple bruise below his shoulder. He noticed a scrape on his forearm that he hadn't seen before and figured he must've fallen on the pavement at some point. He'd stopped remembering exactly what happened in fights--if you could even call them that--awhile ago. It was pointless, really.

He opened the mirror cabinet above the sink, eyes barely registering what he was searching for. His fingers found the familiar shape and he pressed the edge against the white under-skin of his forearm. Red rivulets trickled down his arm and he held it carefully over the sink so as not to drip any on the floor. He carved out another trench into his arm, this one running parallel to the previous.He started to cut another, but the blood on his fingers caused the razor blade to slip from his grasp and clink into the sink. He watched with disengaged interest as blood ran in streams, decorating his arm in a unique pattern. It hurt a little, but Cas had stopped feeling the cold touch of the blade some time ago. He kept at it though, telling himself that if he kept cutting deeper, kept pushing his limits, he would eventually stop feeling it when he played the part of the school punching bag. No luck yet.

He slid down to the cold tile floor and kept staring at the bleeding patterns. He mind wandered to his art project at school. An angel was a stupid idea. And so was green.


	3. Chapter 3

“So what’s the deal with Cas?” Dean asked at lunch.

There was a beat of silence, followed by a synchronized, “Who?” from the other three.

“Castiel,” Dean said. “Does he not eat lunch?”

Anna looked down at her tray, red hair falling in front her face. Gabe found a very interest brick in the wall to the right of Dean’s shoulder. Balthazar heaved a sigh. “Right then, I guess I get to explain the unexplainable situation.” He took a moment to gather his thoughts. “Cassy—Cas, is that what you called him?—when everyone divided, he tried to remain kind to all of them. Didn’t work out to well, as they all hated each other so much they couldn’t imagine someone not hating all but one group. He would’ve come with us, but by the time he’d realized the situation was hopeless, he’d managed to make nearly everyone into an enemy. We still wanted to take him in, but…”

“He said no,” Gabriel interjected. “Several times, actually. Eventually we just…gave up. His invitation still stands, and I think he knows that.”

“But he doesn’t acknowledge it,” Anna said. And then more quietly, “I worry about him.”

“He’s in my painting class—he acted weird when I tried to talk to him. He all but straight out told me to leave him the fuck alone.”

Gabe said, “He didn’t mean it that way. He’s a broken little bastard. I don’t how much and I don’t know in what ways, but I know he’s messed up. Not his fault either.”

Dean remained thoughtful and stayed quiet until lunch was dismissed.

At his locker, he leaned his back against the cool steel and waited. One minute. Two minutes. Three, four. When there was barely sixty seconds left before the bell for next class rang, Dean finally saw Cas approaching.

“Hey.”

Cas stopped dead in his tracks, momentarily, until he saw who it was. “I thought I told you not to talk to me.”

“I thought I’d made it clear that I’m lousy at doing what I’m told.”

“What do you want, Dean.”

“I was just wondering where you eat lunch at,” he asked casually. “I mean, I’ve only been here a couple days, but I’ve seen you in the halls and never at lunch. I just thought maybe you’d like to come sit Anna, Gabe, and Balthazar’s table.”

“You’re friends with them?”

“I guess. Something like that.”

“Good,” Cas said. “They’re…they have good hearts.” Coming from anyone else the words would’ve sounded stupid and cheesy, but something about the way Cas said it…it didn’t sound like that.

“So…?”

“So…what?”

“Where do you disappear to whenever lunch rolls around?”

“I don’t eat lunch,” Cas responded curtly.

“You probably should, you know. You’re kind of in danger of getting lost inside your jacket.”

Cas took a moment to glare at Dean. “Thank you for the advice, Dean. Now on top of insulting me, you’ve also made me late to class.”

“Like you weren’t already gonna be late.”

Cas’ blue eyes glared at him some more.

“Where are you headed anyway?”

“Economics, not that it’s any of your business.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Oh really.”

“No, I’m lying,” Cas said in exasperation as the bell rang.

“Why weren’t you there last class?”

For a fraction of a second, Cas froze. “You have that class, too,” he guessed.

“As a matter of fact.”

“I try to avoid it,” Cas said.

“Why? I mean, sure, Mr. Roman plays the part of his name, but what’s the big deal?”

“I like to stay out of the cross fires,” Cas snapped. “Some people can’t be liked by everyone.”

“Hey, hold on—“ Dean grabbed Cas’ arm before he could leave and a hiss escaped the skinny’s boy’s lips. “What—“

Cas yanked away from Dean. “Don’t touch me.”

* * * 

Castiel went to hide in the restrooms for the next an hour and a half. Great. Why did Dean have to be so annoyingly persistent? Why don’t you talk people, Cas? Why don’t you eat lunch, Cas? What’s your next class, Cas? And when had he started calling him Cas? Thinking back, Castiel realized that he’d only called him that once.

Oh.

* * *

“ _Castiel_.”

He cringed as soon as he walked through the front door. So his dad was home. Awesome.

“Get in here. _Now_.”

Castiel came into the kitchen, dropping his book bag by the table.

“Yes, Dad?”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Skipping class again? Economics?”

“I—“

Castiel got a smack across the face. “Your ass better be in that class next time.”

He wiped blood from his nose and his too-big sleeve slipped up his arm.

His Dad reached out and grabbed a hold of his wrist. “Are you kidding me? More of that childish I-hate-my-life bullshit? Grow the fuck up, Castiel. You’re pathetic.” He shoved Castiel hard, almost sending him toppling over. Maintaining his composure, Castiel grabbed his book bag on his way out and went to his room, locking the door behind him—deadbolt, self-installed.

Castiel wished, for the hundred thousandth time, that he could trade places with one of them. Or both of them. It would be better that way. Everyone would be happier.

* * * 

Castiel almost walked right back out of the classroom.

Dean was sitting in the seat next to where Castiel usually sat, a worried expression plastered on his face. Castiel gathered himself and walked over. He chose to simply ignore Dean, to try and dissuade any conversation whatsoever.

For a few minutes, he thought it was working.

“Listen, Cas—Castiel,” he corrected himself. “I’m sorry about yesterday, I didn’t mean to piss you off, I just…I don’t know. I don’t get this place, and if I were you, I’d be lonely.”

“Apology accepted. Now, please, stop talking to me.”

Castiel left his other painting in his cubby and grabbed a new canvas. Being burned at the stake was medieval—more so than angels.

* * *

Castiel did not want to go to economics class. He didn’t want to sit between Lucifer and Uriel, and he didn’t want to be in the room with Mr. Roman, and he did _not_ want Dean hanging over his shoulder. Except he kind of did.

He stopped outside the door and took a moment to breathe.

_You’re pathetic._

Ninety minutes. That was it. That wasn’t even long at all. What was his problem?

“You okay?”

Cas spun around. “I thought I told you not to talk to me.” But he was already relieved it was just Dean.

“You look like you saw a ghost.”

“Something like that,” he muttered under his breath.

“Come on. We’re getting new seats today.”

Fighting against Dean was harder than just letting himself be pulled around by the boy, so when Dean ushered him into the room, Cas went willingly enough.

Mr. Roman’s eyes flicked up from his computer screen and Castiel took an involuntary step back, bumping into Dean. _Stupid, stupid, stupid. Grow up._

Dean didn’t say anything and Castiel walked to the back of the room where all the other students were, waiting for the new seating chart to be announced. The room felt ten degrees lower than the rest of the school.

Mr. Roman waited until just after the bell rang to begin. “Our first order of business,” he said, “is musical chairs.” He smiled and a good number of students laughed. Cas noted that Dean didn’t. “We’ll go across the rows, starting in the front.” He paused. “Castiel Novak.”

By some miracle of God, Castiel managed to make his legs work and he made his way to the front of the room and took his seat. 

“Dean Winchester.”

Castiel almost let out a sigh of relief. That was one less desk around him that Lucifer or Uriel could wind up at. And maybe the smile Dean shot his way made him feel a little bit better. Just a little.

* * *

Cas found himself adjusting to Dean’s presence in the two classes they shared. But Tuesday as he was walking home from school, it came back to bite him in the ass. 

“Castiel, I never would’ve thought.” This time, it was just Uriel, which Castiel supposed he should be thankful for. “I took you for a lot of things, but a faggot was not one of them. I have to ask—does your father know? And if your mother was alive—I can only guess what she would say, being such a strong Christian. ”

Something inside Cas stirred. He wasn’t sure what and it was an extremely unfamiliar feeling, but something definitely changed. “Shut up.”

Uriel’s posture went rigid and immediately Castiel knew his mistake.

“Excuse me?”

Castiel’s mouth went dry.

“You little punk.”

Uriel took a swing at him, knocking him squarely in the jaw. Cas stumbled back, book bag slipping off his shoulder. The next blow split open his lip, and the following made a solid impact with his gut and knocked the wind out of him. Uriel shoved him and he stumbled and fell, trying to catch his breath. Uriel’s foot slammed into Castiel’s chest.

“Don’t you _ever_ speak to me like that again. I’m so high above you, Castiel. I could bring whatever your pathetic little world consists of crashing down on your head.” Another kick. “I can bury you _alive_.” Another kick. “Just remember that.”

Castiel stayed curled up on the ground, even after he was sure Uriel had gone. His chest hurt and he could feel blood trickling along his skin from his split lip. Getting up was too much effort. He couldn’t say how long he laid there—ten minutes, twenty, thirty. But eventually, he heard a car come to a stop and the slamming of a door. He didn’t have the energy to care at the moment.

“Cas?”

Of course. Just. His. Fucking Luck.

“Cas?”

“Go away,” he groaned.

“What happened?”

“Lea’me alone, Dean.”

“Son of a bitch—here, I’ll drive you home. Sam!”

“What’s going on?” came an unfamiliar voice.

“Grab his bag.”

Castiel half-heartedly shoved Dean away. “I’m not an invalid, I can walk myself.”

“Shut up, Cas. You got the crap beat outta you.”

Dean slid his hands under Cas’ arms and managed to get him on his feet without any help whatsoever from Cas. Castiel finally bothered to open his eyes and was greeted by a set of intense green irises.

Dean slung Cas’ arm over his shoulder and Cas caught a glimpse of a small boy, maybe middle school aged, carrying his book bag and getting into a classic black car of some sort.

“Dean, stop,” thought by this point Castiel was pretty sure he didn’t have a say in the matter.

He allowed himself to be pushed firmly into the passenger seat and the door be shut after him.

“Who did this to you?” Dean asked as he restarted the car.

Castiel didn’t respond.

“Dean, who’s this?”

“Sam, this is Cas, Cas this is my little brother, Sam.”

“Your reputation’s at stake, you know,” Cas said. “You should let me out of the car.”

“Dude, to hell with my reputation. This town is so messed up. Where do you live?”

After an enormous sigh, Castiel gave Dean directions to his house.

Once they were close, he said it’s right up— _don’t slow down_.”

“What?”

“ _Keep driving_ ,” Cas hissed.

Dean did as he was told for once and continued on past the house and the two cars in the driveway. His dad had a girl over.

“What was that about?” Dean asked.

“My dad has company,” Cas quickly supplied.

“Yeah, he also has a bruised and bleeding kid—“

“Just drop me off around the block or something. It’ll be fine.”

“No way, man. How long’s your dad gonna be busy for?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, you can come stay at our place for a while.” He looked in the rearview mirror. “Right, Sammy?”

“Sure!”

“My dad’s not home, but we’ve got some first aid stuff.”

“I think I’ll live,” Castiel said sarcastically. He didn’t mention how much worse shape he’d been in before.

The Winchesters lived a mile or two out of town in an old but well-built house. Sam grabbed Cas’ bag, Dean’s, and his own, and ran ahead to open the door for his brother and Cas.

“Thanks, Sammy,” Dean said as he led Cas inside.

Castiel mumbled thanks as well.

There were dishes in the sink and a pile of books on the table.

“Have a seat,” Dean said, and, “I’ll be right back,” before disappearing.

“Do you want something to drink?” his younger brother asked.

He opened his mouth to say no, but something about Sam made him feel comfortable enough to say, “A drink would be nice.”

He opened the fridge and Castiel noticed several tests with “A’s” on them, decorating the fridge door. “We’ve got…coke, water, apple juice…”

“I’ll have a coke.”

Sam handed him the ice cold can and a straw and he kept got a glass of apple juice for himself. “So are you in my brother’s grade?” he asked, taking a seat beside Cas.

“Yes, I’m a junior.”

“That’s cool. I’m in seventh grade this year.”

“How are you liking it here?” Cas asked him.

“It’s pretty nice. Dean told me about how it is at the high school—it’s a lot different at the middle school.”

Cas laughed humorlessly. “Let’s just say our generation managed to get itself fairly messed up.”

“Sam, you bothering him?”

Sam shook his head.

Dean came back into the room, carrying several things that Castiel didn’t care to look too closely at. Dean set the stuff out on the table. “Are you gonna tell me what went down?” Dean pressed.

Castiel gave him a glare.

“He’ll talk about it when he’s ready, Dean.”

This time it was Dean’s turn to glare at Sam. If Cas didn’t hurt so much, he might’ve even cracked a smile.

“Okay, let’s see the damage,” Dean said. “Sam, get some ice.”

“This might sting a little.” Dean wiped blood and dirt and whatever else from the blood on Castiel’s lip, and the proximity almost made him freeze in his aware state. If Dean noticed, he didn’t show it.

Cas stared at Dean’s full eyelashes. They cast shadows below his eyes, fluttering slightly sometimes.

“Here.” Sam offered Cas ice wrapped in a towel and he was glad for the distraction. He pressed it against his jaw where Uriel’s fist had no doubt left a colorful mark.

Dean’s fingertips accidentally brushed against Castiel’s lips and he managed to keep from flinching.

“Shirt off,” Dean said.

Castiel stared at him for a moment. “What?”

“You were all hunched over—let’s see it.”

“I’m fine—“

“Nope. At least let me make sure you don’t have any broken ribs.”

“I didn’t come over here just so you could play doctor.”

Dean laughed, which Castiel did not find that funny. After a moment, he said, “Seriously, Cas, it’ll just take a minute. I wanna make sure you don’t die on my watch.”

Castiel couldn’t take his shirt off and leave his sleeves on—that just wasn’t possible. And he wasn’t about to let Dean see his arms. That would not go well, he was certain.

“Can I…can I just take a nap? Not for long, I mean—“

“Yeah, I guess. Go ahead and lie down on the couch.”

“Wake me up if I’m out for too long.”

“Sure.”

* * *

Dean stood in the threshold of the living room and watched the miniscule rise and fall of Cas’ chest. His jaw sported an ugly bruise and even when it was clean the split on his lip looked anything but pretty. He didn’t realize how long he’d been debating with himself until Sam said, “Hey, Edward.”

Dean shoved his little brother’s head. “Shut up, bitch. I just want to make sure he’s okay—you saw the way he was walking.”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “Kind of like when Dad came home last year.”

“Exactly. And he had three broken ribs.”

“So, go check.”

“I don’t want him to wake up to a guy taking his clothes off.”

Sam gave Dean one of his many looks. This was one of the ones that made him seem older than Dean, even though he was four years younger.

“Dean.”

“What?”

“Grow up.”

“Do your homework.”

Sam laughed, but went upstairs.

Dean took a breath and walked quietly into the room. He knelt beside the couch and slowly began easing Cas’ shirt up. When he saw the mess of purple and blue covering Cas’ ivory chest and parts of his abdomen. Dean prodded, doing his best to be gentle, but Cas jerked awake nonetheless.

“ _What the hell are you doing_!”

Dean held his hands up in an innocent gesture. “Just checking your ribs, man.”

Cas was off the couch so fast Dean wondered if he’d hallucinated the bruising.

“I think I’d know if I had broken bones,” Cas snapped.

“Look—I’m sorry. Everything seemed fine from what I could tell—“

“I’m going home.”

“You can’t just start walking—“

“I can do whatever I want.”

“At least let me drive you.”

“You can take your car and shove it up—“

“It’s dark out—you can’t just walk home in the dark.”

“ _It’s dark out_?”

“Well…yeah…”

“I told you to wake me up.”

“What’s going on?” Sam appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

“ _Some_ body’s having a hissy fit,” Dean said pointedly.

Cas shook his head and marched towards the door.

“Hey—hold up,” Dean immediately regretted opening his big fat mouth. He grabbed Cas’ arm to stop him and Cas yanked away yet again.

“Don’t,” Cas warned, his pink lips forming perfectly around the word. Not that Dean noticed.

Dean hesitated, watching a range of emotions flick across Cas’ face, like brief flashes of lightning, changing before he could really identify them.

“Dude,” he said after what was probably minutes, “you can’t walk to town.” _Especially not in your condition_ , he added to himself.

Cas huffed a sigh. “Fine.”

He walked out the front door and Dean followed, leaving a very confused Sammy standing at the base of the stairs.


	4. Chapter 4

Cas didn’t know how Dean managed to get him so riled. Usually, Cas had zero fucks to give, but when Dean was around…it loosened him up—and not exactly in a good way. It made him snappy and frustrated and irritable and…it made him almost care. And Castiel had stopped caring a long time ago.

Dean was candy. Delicious, but not good for you. And very nice too look at.

Cas was bad at metaphors.

In historical lit, Cas spent most of the class reading _Le Morte Dartur_ \--by choice. As a class they were going briefly over Greek philosophers. If it snatched anyone's interest, the hope was that they would take philosophy next year. Cas already knew he was because it wasn't a popular class.

Gabriel cast him worried glances throughout the period, but Cas pretended not to notice. When the bell rang, Cas took his usual time getting his things together. (He’d found the halls to be a much more dangerous place than the classrooms--in most cases.) Everyone had emptied the room and Cas was just getting up to leave when Mr. Shurley spoke.

"Castiel, what happened to your face?"

Cas didn't take any notice of Mr. Shurley's phrasing; he was an awkward man.

"I fell of my bike," Cas lied easily. He didn't even own a bike. "Face-planted on the pavement."

"Oh, well--try to be more careful. Looks a bit like somebody tried to knock your teeth out."

Cas offered a smile despite his split lip. "Just my own stupidity."

Dean was waiting for him at his locker--there was no other way to say it. Dean was standing with his back against his own closed locker and righted himself when Cas approached.

"Hey. Feeling any better?"

"I'm fine," Cas answered curtly. "I just _fell off my bike_."

"Oh, is that what happened?" Dean played along.

Cas got that familiar prickle along his spine that said someone was watching him--that past couple years, it had developed so well that he could often times tell who it was that was staring. This one had Uriel written all over it and a glance over his shoulder confirmed it. Dark eyes glared at him hatefully and Cas found himself wanting to crawl into his locker and shut the door behind him.

" _Dean_ ," he hissed when he realized Dean was glaring right back at Uriel.

Somehow, Dean won and Uriel looked away--or he just got bored.

"What a dick," Dean noted, obviously unimpressed.

"Dean, don't challenge him," Cas said. "You've got good friends here, don't make enemies."

"I thought this place was all anyone-who-isn't-a-friend-is-an-enemy. Why even..." His green eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Is he the one that did this to you?"

Cas shook his head vehemently. "No, he's not." But damn if he was bad at lying directly to Dean.

"He is, isn't he? I swear, I'll rip—“

"Dean, _no_ ," Cas said, leaving no room for argument. "Don't do _anything_. Don't even _look_ at him for the next week."

"How can you say that? Don't you want to get back at him? Get even?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm serious. What did you do to deserve that?"

"What _didn't_ I do," Cas muttered.

"What?"

"Just leave it be."

"Cas, come on. At least _tell_ somebody. You can't let him get away with beating you to a pulp."

"Thank you, for emphasizing just how helpless I am. Really, it means a lot. I survive. That's enough." Castiel walked around Dean, once again late for class.

"Surviving and living aren't the same things!" Dean called after him.

 _Surviving's good enough for me_ , Cas thought. _Surviving's good enough for me_.

* * *

Dean was pretty sure Cas had forgotten they had painting together. But while he was walking down the hall, he kind of did this little hesitation step where his foot froze midair momentarily. Dean got the feeling that that was when he realized.

Cas' slight shoulders rose as he took a breath.

"I didn't mean to be rude," Cas said without turning around.

Dean half ran the few steps it took to catch up to him. "Yes, you did," he said with a smirk.

He knew he'd been successful in lightening the mood back up when the corner of Cas' mouth twitched upward minutely. "Shut up."

"Nah, I like the sound of my voice too much."

"You're a very strange person, Dean Winchester."

"You're not too normal yourself, Castiel Novak."

Cas rolled his eyes and Dean grinned. Something about making Cas happy made _him_ happy. But there was nothing wrong with that, right?

After Dean took what was becoming his usual spot beside Castiel and Cas got out his work, Dean asked, "What happened to the green one?" He'd gotten out a new blank paper. What had he called it...bristol?

Cas frowned, something changing slightly in his eyes. "It was a stupid idea. I'm starting over."

Dean shrugged and tried to ignore the significantly minuscule change in Cas' ambience.

"You still haven't started yours," Cas observed.

"I don't really know what I want my subject to be. I'm thinking a blue color scheme, but other than that I'm pretty much clueless."

"Blue often times represented fidelity and truth," Cas said.

Dean gave him a weird look. "Dude, you and my brother would get along great."

Cas tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

Dean just shook his head. "You two could co-write an encyclopedia of weirdness."

"At least we could write an encyclopedia."

"Hey, I know my classic rock and cars."

There were several beats of silence and then Dean had an idea. "What are you doing this weekend?"

"No more than usual," Cas said warily. "...Why?"

"Good. Then you'll be able to hang out with me and a couple of friends from my old school."

"Or not."

"Come on, they're pretty cool. And I was gonna ask Gabe and Anna and Balthazar at lunch, too. You guys used to hang out, right? I know they still want to be friends, if you'd just let them."

"I can't."

"You just said you weren't doing anything," Dean said.

"No, I didn't," Cas retorted.

"But that's what you meant."

"I'm not going."

"Yes, you are."

"No."

"I'll kidnap you."

Then Cas did something really surprising. He dipped a fairly large brush in the nearest available paint--it just happened to be yellow--and flung it at Dean. Dean jumped back in a vain attempt to dodge the splatter and it left yellow splotches all over his face. A grin made a home of Cas' lips for several minutes after that. Mrs. Milton was off somewhere and the other kids weren't sure how to react, but Dean didn't care.

"Okay, now I'm definitely kidnapping you," he said, trying to wipe the paint off on the back of his hand but only succeeding in smearing it further.

"I'm very efficient in the art of hiding."

"I _am_ the art of hiding," Dean said as he turned to the sink that was behind him and got some damp paper towels.

"Oh, is that why you're covered in bright yellow paint? Is that some sort of top secret method?"

Dean gave a weak retaliation, sending a flick of water Cas' way. A few droplets landed in his dark hair and Dean tried to ignore the fact that he wondered what it would be like to run his fingers through that hair.

"Oh yeah," he said, pausing to wipe some of the paint off with the brown paper towel. "We're talking CIA level here."

"You'd think the CIA could train its agents to dodge some paint splatter."

"Yeah, well, they never used _yellow_."

Dean heard some whispers coming from the table next to theirs. "...tell him. Lucifer'll be mad as Hell. He has his sight set on Winchester and Novak's just asking for it now..."

"Lucifer's a dick," Dean said without warning.

The entire class grew so quiet you could have heard a feather drop. Dean was pretty sure most of them had even stopped breathing.

" _Dean_ ," Cas said, voice unnaturally loud in the silence, "just stop talking."

“I’ll say whatever I want,” Dean said. “Everyone else does. Just as long as it’s not about Michael or Lucifer or Uriel or any of those douche bags.”

When Mrs. Milton came back into the room, conversation picked back up but never regained full volume.

* * *

“Is that…paint? In your hair?” Balthazar asked, squinting.

“Are you kidding? He said I got it all out…” Dean ran his hands through his hair, as if that would get the remaining dried paint out. “So, I was gonna go hang out with some friends from my old school this weekend. And I was wondering if you guys wanted to come along.”

“Saturday or Sunday?” Anna asked.

“I was gonna head out there on Saturday and maybe stay into Sunday.”

“Will they mind if we come along?” Anna asked hesitantly.

“Nah, they’re pretty laid back. And I bet Jo’ll like having another girl around. Most of the time it’s just us guys and her.”

“I’m in,” Gabe said.

“I’ll come, too,” Anna said with a smile.

“Will there be alcohol?” Balthazar asked.

Dean gave a short laugh. “Yeah, prob’ly.”

“Then I suppose I’ll tag a long as well.”

“Do you wanted drive out there in separate cars?”

“Why waste the gas?” Gabe asked rhetorically. “We can all fit in your ride, can’t we?”

“Well, it’ll be full, but it would work.”

“Who else is coming?” Balthazar asked, taking a drink of his said ‘water’.

“I told Cas I was kidnapping him if he didn’t coming willingly.”

Anna’s face lit up. “That’s great! Here—“ She pulled a pen out of her pocket and scrawled something down in her neat script on a napkin. “This is my address,” she said, passing it to Balthazar. He and Gabe wrote their addresses down too and gave it to Dean.

“Let us know a few minutes before you stop by,” Gabe said.

“And if it’s before noon, don’t even bother stopping by my house,” Balthazar advised.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean pulled into Balthazar's driveway at five after noon. He'd already picked up Anna and Gabriel, and Cas was next up on the list. They waited for five minutes before Gabe reached from the backseat and laid on the horn. A middle finger made a brief appearance in one of the second floor windows.

"Should we leave without him?" Dean asked hesitantly.

"Nah, he'll come," Gabe said. "Just give him another minute or two."

Another five minutes later and they were still waiting. From beside Gabriel, Anna reached for the radio and blasted it. "He might've fallen asleep again," she yelled over the electric guitar.

After that, it didn't take long for Balthazar to come through the front door. He wore his usual V-neck—Dean could only imagine to the teasing Balthazar was going to have to endure—and sported just-rolled-out-bed-hair.  _Not as good as Cas's_ , Dean thought before shaking himself.

"Good morning, princess!" Gabe greeted as he swung open the door.

"What, Cassy gets the front seat?" Balthazar asked sourly, ignoring the comment.

"He'll feel crowded," Anna murmured as Dean turned the radio down to a reasonable volume. Once they got on the highway, he had no doubt it would get cranked up again. Mostly, Dean remembered Cas' reaction to when his dad was home and Dean didn't want to piss Mr. Novak off.

Dean got out his phone and sent a text to the number he'd wiled from Cas yesterday saying they were on their way.

* * *

Castiel's dad was still asleep when Cas got Dean's text. He was passed out on the couch and Cas avoided walking by him: one, he didn't want to wake him up, and two, the smell of alcohol was so strong it made him want to choke.

Cas brushed his teeth and slipped a navy sweatshirt over his head. He'd taken a shower a little under an hour ago and his hair was still damp, but it was too late to do anything about that now.

He stared at the stack of yellow sticky notes before him, swinging the pen between two fingers. He hadn't mentioned any of this to his dad, but even if he had, his father wouldn't remember. Cas could just go without leaving any note, but that would  _really_ piss his dad off. He finally settled on,  _Went out. Be back Sunday._  The vagueness of it was almost comical, but if his dad read it in the wrong mood, the consequences wouldn't be funny at all. He stuck the note on the fridge where his dad was sure to see it when he went for another beer just as his phone buzzed again in his pocket. It was from Dean again. "Here." Cas was thankful that Dean had the sense not to honk the horn. Or maybe it was just coincidence. Either way.

Outside, the sky was a typical fall gray. Gabriel, Anna, and Balthazar were piled into the back, and Castiel repeatedly told himself that they used to be friends, they liked him, they didn't want to smear his guts all over town. And Dean was there.

"Cassy!" Gabe greeted with a grin.

"Gabriel," Cas returned quietly.

"It's great that you're coming," Anna said sincerely.

"Let's get going," Balthazar urged. "I didn't bring anything to drink."

Some things never changed.

"I think you can make it an hour," Anna teased.

While the backseat trio bickered and mocked, Dean asked Cas if he was okay with classic rock.

“I’m not a picky listener,” he answered.

“We’ll be stopping at the gas station before we leave town,” Balthazar announced. “I need to get some food.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Gabe said. “I forgot about lunch.”

“Just stop at McDonalds,” Anna recommended. “It’s not so out of the way.”

“And who’s paying for this indulgence?” Dean asked.

A wad of dollar bills came flying in from the back and smacked Dean’s head. Cas let the money fall into his open palm.

“Great!” Dean said with a grin. “I guess I’ll get something too then.”

“Just don’t buy the whole menu,” Balthazar said.

“That looks like enough to buy _two_ whole menus,” Dean said.

As they pulled up to the drive-thru, Dean warned, “No spilling. Not drinks, not grease, not ketchup, nothing.”

Gabriel saluted. “Aye-aye, sir!”

“Good afternoon, welcome to McDonalds, what can I get for you?”

At the moment, it dawned on Cas that there was mostly likely someone working their from the school and they’d see him and

No. He wouldn’t worry about that until Monday. He refused to be miserable as always this weekend.

“They have the McRib, don’t they?” Balthazar mumbled. Then louder, “Get me the McRib, some fries, and a Coke.”

Dean relayed.

“I’ll take a Caesar salad with grilled chicken…and a wild-berry smoothie,” Anna said.

Gabe got a hot caramel sundae and a shamrock shake, and Dean got an Angus something or other with fries and a Coke.

There was a beat of silence and then Dean prodded, “Cas?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Oh, shut up, Cassy. Yes, you are. Get him something with chicken,” Balthazar instructed. “And sweet tea. He couldn’t have stopped liking tea.”

Dean ordered him the tea, some fries, and a crispy chicken club sandwich. Cas hadn’t ate that much all in one sitting in ages and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to manage.

“You’re way too skinny,” Dean said in explanation as Cas passed him the money as they drove up to the first window.

“At least I’m not way too fat,” Cas quipped.

The cashier restated the cost after doing a double take on Castiel in the passenger seat. _Refuse to be miserable, refuse to be miserable, refuse to be miserable_.

As soon as the tea was in Castiel’s hands, he was reminded of how much he loved it. He used to drink it all the time—Anna’s mom used to always buy tea when she and Cas’ father had lived together, but after she moved out he’d stopped drinking it. It wasn’t as if his dad bought it on his own, and Cas didn’t dare ask.

So even the not-so-great McDonalds sweet tea tasted delicious.

“Could we get some air circulation going?” Balthazar hinted as they pulled back onto the road.

“Somebody’s demanding today,” Dean noted.

“You woke me up early,” he complained.

“Right,” Dean said with a laugh.

Castiel nibbled a fry.

“Don’t be such a bird,” Dean commented, green eyes watching him.

“Eyes on the road,” Cas said with a frown.

“Castiel _is_ a bird,” Gabriel said matter-of-factly.

“He doesn’t have feathers,” Dean said as he lifted one of Cas’ arms up by the elbow to check.

“I’ll spill all over your car,” Cas threatened.

Dean pointed a finger at him. “Don’t you dare.” 

“Well, none that you can see,” Gabe said. “But they’re there, I promise you.”

Anna rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, not the bird puns again. We do _not_ need to bring those back.”

“Bird puns?” Dean asked curiously.

“Oh, yes, we’ve got lots of great stories to tell,” Gabriel said with a wicked grin. Cas gave him a warning look, but it was ignored. “When he was little, maybe three or four, we used to go to the park all the time. And whenever he’d see a bird hopping along in the grass, he’d shout ‘BIRD!’ and chase after it. I swear, he used to think he could fly if he tried hard enough.”

Cas sunk into the seat slightly and opened the box his sandwich was in and took a bite of it, just for something to do besides turn pink.

“And then remember when he got a little older,” Anna said, “and he’d tried to creep up on them and catch them before they flew away?”

“The feather collection,” Balthazar said simply.

Anna squealed. “Oh my gosh, Cas! Do you still have that? You had _so many feathers._ It was unreal.”

Cas took another bite, this one larger, and tried to pretend this wasn’t actually happening.

“No way he could’ve gotten rid of that,” Gabriel said. “It wouldn’t have fit in the dumpster.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Cas said after a swallow and before another bite.

“Only a little,” Gabe said innocently.

The truth was, Cas did still have his feather collection. Buried somewhere in the back of his closet, long untouched but not forgotten. Several shoeboxes held an abundance of sparrow and robin feathers, some cardinal and blue jay ones too. He had some grey ones from mourning doves and several peacock feathers, just to name a few. There were countless others.

“Remember when we went to the zoo,” Anna recalled, “and you were soooo excited when you found a bright blue feather from one of the macaws?”

“I think that’s enough feather talk,” Cas said.

“Aw, but we were just getting warmed up!” Gabriel replied around a mouthful of ice cream.

“If I recall,” Cas said, “you had a fairly large collection of bottle caps—“

Gabe glared at him. “Those were from all the Snapples you drank.”

“You’re the one who kept the caps.”

“The facts are interesting!” Gabriel defended himself. “And some of them come in handy in school.”

“Gabe,” Anna said. “Stop talking.”

“Animals that lay eggs don’t have belly buttons

“Oh no,” Anna said, covering her face with her hand.

“Camels have 3 eyelids.”

“Here we go,” Balthazar said with an eye roll.

“The Hawaiian alphabet only has twelve letters.”

“I can’t believe he still does this,” Cas said incredulously.

“Fish can cough.”

“Is this...”

“Mosquitoes have 47 teeth.”

“…normal?” Dean asked.

“Only a starfish can turn its stomach inside out.”

“For him? Yes,” Anna said decidedly.

“A pigeon’s feathers are heavier than its bones.”

“Dear Lord, shut _up_ , Gabriel,” Balthazar said.

Mr. Snapple Facts leaned across Anna and whispered something.

“I don’t care if crocodiles can or can’t move their tongues!” Balthazar shouted.

* * *

Dean had never heard Cas laugh before—like, full out, can’t hold back, burst of joy laughter. Balthazar’s crocodile comment got it out of him. Dean didn’t think about how he thought that smile could light up the night, because Cas was a guy and Dean was a guy. But it was still a nice smile.

Anna wrinkled her nose. “Do you have a Snapple fact for how to get ranch off a shirt?”

Gabe gave her a funny look, then his eyes followed hers to a spot on his shirt.

“Damn it! This was a decent shirt.”

Balthazar smirked.

But it didn’t take long before the group was singing along with the radio at the top of their lungs—even Cas.

They passed a road sign that said five miles to Lawrence and Gabe let out a whoop. “Finally! So Dean,”—Dean turned the radio back down to a somewhat acceptable volume—“tell us a little about these friends of yours.”

“Well, there’s Jo, Ash, Garth, and Adam. Jo’s practically a sister, and the guys are great to hang around with—Jo and Ash are cousins. Garth is…well, you’ll see, but he grows on you. And Adam’s tons of fun once he warms up to you.”

“Mmm…is Jo cute?” Balthazar asked.

“I wouldn’t go there,” Dean said. “She’s little, but she’s a ball of fire.”

“You basically just called her hot,” Gabe said.

Dean shot him a look. “Not helping.”

In a matter of minutes, they were pulling into a driveway plenty familiar to Dean.

* * *

Cas was silently starting to panic. He was about to meet four people he’d never even seen before, _and_ hang out with Gabriel, Anna, and Balthazar for the first time in ages, _and_ Dean would be there too. You could say his “people skills” were “rusty”.

As the others were getting out of the car, Dean offered Cas a comforting squeeze on the shoulder. “They don’t bite,” he promised with a wink. “C’mon,” he prodded when Cas didn’t make an immediate move to get out of the car. Castiel forced his limbs to work and he somehow managed to make it to the front door.

Dean didn’t bother with knocking.

The five of them walked right into the house, and followed Dean, who appeared to be following the sound of music. (No, not the movie.) He swung open a brown door at the foot of the stairs and loudly announced, “The party has arrived!”

“ _Dean_!” A petite blonde girl practically tackled Dean to the ground in a hug.

He gave a breathless laugh. “Relax, cupcake, I’ve only been gone a week.”

“Well, do you think those three would give you hugs? I have to make up for them.” She had a warm, pleasant voice. She made Cas want to paint sunlight.

“Right, sure,” Dean said, somewhere between sarcastic and dubious.

Jo stuck her hand out at Cas, who was—oddly enough—nearest. “I’m Jo,” she said with a grin.

Cas took half a moment before he reached out to shake her hand. “I’m Castiel.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Nice name.”

She moved onto Gabriel, then Anna, then Balthazar, and finished with, “It’s good to meet you all. This is Adam, Ash, and Garth,” she said, gesturing around the room at a boy with dark blonde hair, a scrawny kid, and some guy with—was that?...yes, with a mullet, who Cas was absolutely certain would grow up to work in a bar.

“Have a seat,” Jo said. “Can I get you anything? Water, beer, Mountain Dew, Pepsi…”

Cas took a seat on an empty couch. Gabe wanted a Mountain Dew, Anna asked for water, and Balthazar, of course, requested a beer. Jo looked pointedly at Cas, and it took him a moment to realize she was waiting for him to say something.

“I—I’m fine, thank you.”

“Alright,” she said.

Dean stood to presumably help her bring the refreshments, but Cas found himself staring at Dean, selfishly asking him not to leave him, without even fully realizing he was doing it. That was all it took for Dean to sit back down beside him.

“Hey, Jo, get me a beer, too.”

She gave him a look. “You know, if your friends weren’t here, I’d call you an asshole and tell you to get it yourself.”

He gave her a cheesy fake smile and she rolled her eyes.

On her way out the door, mullet-man said, “Get me a beer too. Or two.”

She gave him the middle finger without turning around and said a loud, “Screw you.” But she came back with everyone’s drinks nonetheless.

“See, her new waitressing job is paying off,” Adam—they’d each been more specifically introduced—said smartly as she handed him the beer he hadn’t asked for.

“ _Hey_ ,” she said., snatching it away from his grasp. “I could always give this to Garth, here.”

“Okay, okay!” Adam surrendered. “Sorry, jeez.”

“And let’s not forget that I’m the only one of you three—you _four_ ,” she said, looking pointedly at Dean, “—with a paying job.” She handed out the rest of the drinks. “What happened to you?” she asked Cas.

“Oh, I fell off my bike a few days ago.”

“Nasty fall.”

Cas shrugged. “It happens.”

“So. What are we gonna do today?” Garth asked.

“There’s a new horror movie at the theater tonight,” Adam offered.

“It’s hours until then,” Ash said. “And we’d have to go see the midnight showing.”

“Oh, we’d have to, would we?” Jo asked.

“Well, yeah,” Ash answered. “You don’t go to watch a horror movie at seven. It’s just not right.”

She rolled her eyes. “Okay, so movie tonight? Cool?”

Everyone nodded in consensus.

“We could go wreak some havoc in Walmart until then,” Garth suggested.

“Now there’s something I haven’t done in awhile,” Gabriel said.

Dean shifted on the couch beside Cas and his shoulder brushed against Castiel’s. Out of the corner of his eye, Cas didn’t think he saw Dean react at all. But it sent a strange feeling traveling along Cas’ nerves.

“We’ll head out in a little while,” Adam said. “We should get to know each other first.”

“Yes, please,” Ash said. “Tell us about yourselves. How many kids do you want to have? Where are you going to live? What are you going to do with your life?”

“I’m going to have two homes,” Balthazar said. “One back in England and one over here.”

“You’re British,” Adam noted. “When did you come to the US?”

“Oh…sometime around fourth grade, I’d say.”

“And you held onto your accent?” Garth was obviously surprised.

Balthazar shrugged. “The ladies love it.”

Ash pointed a finger at him. “I like your reasoning.”

Adam kicked his feet up on the edge of the coffee table. “How about you, Gabe? You’re lacking an accent.”

Gabriel ignored the latter comment and said, “I’m going to own a bakery.” He gave Cas a pointed look and he knew what was coming next. This used to be their plan when they were kids, late elementary school, the early middle school years. “And Castiel is going to decorate the cakes.”

Cas rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Of course. What was it you were going to call it? Gabe’s Goodies? No, no…it had something to do with baking…”

“Get Baked,” Balthazar provided.

The room burst into laughter and Gabriel narrowed his eyes at Balthazar, then Cas. “Very funny. Let’s not forget the dirt I have on you—or rather, feathers.”

Cas sat up a bit straighter, subconsciously accepting the challenge. “Oh? I’m fairly certain I could drown you in bottle caps.”

Gabriel downed the rest of his Mountain Dew in one gulp and threw the can at Cas’ head.

Anna gave Jo a sorry look. “You’ll figure it out eventually.”

“Do I really want to?”

Anna shrugged.

“And Castiel, the boy with the name. What are you going to do with your life?” Ash inquired, imitating holding a microphone out to him.

A smile tugged at Cas’ lips. “I’d like to be a painter.”

“Ahhh, an artist,” Ash said.

Garth spoke up. “You, good sir, should do my next art project.”

Cas folded his arms and leaned back in mock professionalism. “I’ll consider and get back to you.”

They moved on to Anna. “And the lovely ginger lady,” Ash addressed her,” how many children are you going to have?”

Anna grabbed a throw pillow and threw it at him. “Sexist,” she said with a laugh.

Balthazar pointed at his new acquaintances. “Your turn.”

From where he sat at on the pool table, Ash announced that he’d was going to own a bar. Adam planned on signing up for the military and Garth had absolutely no idea.

“I’m co-owning with Ash,” Jo said. “And I’m thinking about doing some creative writing on the side.”

“You write?” Cas asked, immediately interested, his usual detached mask slipping away even more-so.

She smiled shyly. “A little. It’s just silly stuff, it’s really rough.”

“I’d like to read it sometime,” Cas said earnestly. “I mean—if that’s okay.”

She nodded. “Yeah, sure. Most people don’t take an interest,” she said, gesturing around the room. “Do you write?”

“Not so much, I just like reading.”

“Well,” she said, “you come over sometime and bring some of your paintings for me to see and you can read some of my stuff.”

His lip muscles danced upward. “Deal.”

A song came on the radio that Cas was pretty sure was by Asia. “Aw, it’s too bad Sammy’s not here,” Dean said. “This is his favorite song.”

Ash laughed. “Oh, don’t we know it.”

Garth shook his head. “At least the kid can recognize bad music.”

“Hey, now!” Dean warned.

Once the group got to talking, they lost track of the time and Walmart didn’t happen. But once they arrived at the theatre later that night, Cas realized going along with this was definitely not one of his best decisions. Number one, he didn’t do horror movies, and number two, the smell of movie theatre popcorn made him feel sick. No one seemed to remember this until they were at the front door when Anna whispered to him, “Do you still have the thing with the popcorn?”

Cas shrugged and said, “It’s been a while.” He hoped he’d out-grown it or something.

As soon as he stepped inside though, he knew he hadn’t.

He hid it well, though, and Balthazar ended up buying him a raspberry iced tea and—at Dean’s insistence when he learned Cas had never tried them before—a bag of Sour Patch Kids. Ash bought a large bucket of popcorn to share and Cas was trying to figure out where he should sit to avoid it but he ended up mindlessly following behind Dean while he tried to figure out who would eat the least or even none at all. He sat at the end of the row, which was a painfully obvious solution to the popcorn problem since Gabe was sitting on the opposite end and Ash beside him.

Just before the lights went down, Dean whispered, “Are you a screamer?”

Cas sunk deeper into his seat and didn’t respond.

Twenty minutes in, Cas found himself desperately wanting to run out of the theatre. Or even hide under a blanket—despite how childish that was—if only he had one. Someone lost a finger, which he didn’t mind as much, but every time something jumped out, Cas found himself also jumping. When the rest of the group found the first dead body, Cas instinctively grabbed ahold of the nearest thing—it just happened to be Dean’s arm. In the dark theatre, Dean’s eyes, illuminated by the light of the screen, shifted to him, but Cas avoided looking at him and let go of his arm.

_Idiot._

By some miracle, Cas made it through the whole thing. In the last few minutes, there was a major build up, and _everyone_ in the theatre jumped—even Dean—and there were several screams. Cas and Dean’s hands hit each other when they jumped and Castiel instinctively pulled his back. But by then, it was only a matter of minutes until the movie ended.

Cas had forgotten about his Sour Patch Kids, and when the credits began rolling he reached down and picked them up off the floor from where they’d fallen, unopened.

On their way back to pile illegally into Adam’s mom’s seven-seat van, Ash declared, “Best. Horror movie. Ever.”

Anna shook her head. “Next time Adam suggests a movie, I am _not_ going.”

“They had really nice effects,” Jo said. “I thought it was going to be cheesy.”

“We’re not taking Garth next time,” Ash said. “He spilled the popcorn halfway through.”

Balthazar snorted. “I’m surprised there was any left.”

“Are you trying to say something?” Ash asked.

Gabe slung his arms over Balthazar and Ash’s shoulders, almost empty Icy in hand. “Boys, boys, boys. I think you’re getting grouchy because you’re tired.”

Balthazar shoved him off playfully. “And I think you’re getting loopy because you’ve had too much sugar.”

“There’s no such thing,” Gabe stated.

“When you turn forty, I think you’ll believe otherwise,” Anna said.

Halfway to the van, Garth started running. ‘I’m not sitting in the back again!” he shouted.

Jo chased after him, hollering, “I’m getting shotgun!”

Back at the Harvelles’ house, Garth crashed on the floor almost immediately. Jo laid a blanket over him in a sisterly manner.

“I’m getting something to drink,” she said. “If anyone wants something, come up and get it yourselves.”

Cas found himself quite thirsty after eating all the Sour Patch Kids on the drive back, so he followed Jo up the stairs.

“You’re pretty quiet,” she said as they went up the stairs. “What did you think of the movie?”

“Um…scary movies aren’t exactly my thing,” he said honestly.

“You didn’t not wanna go, did you?” she asked, immediately concerned.

“No, it was fine,” Cas lied. “I just haven’t seen one in a while.

“Oh, okay.” She opened the fridge door and pulled out a Coke.

Cas reached in after her and grabbed a bottled water. She popped the can open and Cas stood to shut the fridge door, but she was standing closer than he thought and they bumped into each other, the majority of her soda spilling onto his sleeve.

“Oh!” she gasped. “I’m sorry! I’m such a klutz sometimes—oh, wow, that was almost the whole can. I’m so sorry!”

“You’re fine,” Cas said, holding his arm out away from the rest of him; the soda was ice cold.

“Here,” she said, reaching for his sweatshirt. “I’ll wash this for you.” She started helping him pull it over his head too quick for him to come up with something. “I can’t believe I did that, i—“ She fell silent for a moment when she saw his arms. “Oh my God."

Cas pressed his lips together and kept his eyes downcast. He knew he couldn’t lie his way out of this.

“Castiel, did you…why would you do that?”

He moved his blue eyes to her brown. “You can’t say anything,” he said quietly. “I’m not suicidal, I swear, but if I tried to explain, no one would believe me—“

“Cas, do you _see_ what your arms look like? There’s more cuts than intact skin, you can’t—“

“Jo, please.” Castiel grabbed her arm. “If anyone finds out about this, it’ll only get worse.”

She shook her head in confusion. “What are you talking about? You need help, Cas, or just to stop.”

Castiel tried to contain his panic. “I’m begging you,” he said. “Don’t say anything. Just…please.” He desperately searched her eyes, trying to determine if she would or not.

After at least a full minute, she said, “Fine. But if you’re still doing this when I see you again—“

“Thank you,” he said, cutting her off. He was promising nothing.

“There’s a blanket in the living room,” she said. “You can carry that down—I’m not letting you wear this until it’s been cleaned.”

Cas gave her a grateful smile.

Back downstairs, Adam commented on how long the two of them were up there for.

“She spilled Coke on me,” Cas explained.

Adam laughed as Cas nestled under the blanket on the couch. All the lights were off in the room, save the TV, which was good. Dean came out of the bathroom and plopped down beside him.

“Gabe fell asleep fast,” he noted.

Balthazar looked down at the sleeping boy beside the recliner Balthazar was sitting in. “Sugar crash,” he said simply. “It’s the only way to ever get him to fall asleep.”

Jo came down then, looking perfectly normal.

“Way to go, Jo,” Ash teased.

“Shut up, Ash hole,” she retorted, sticking her tongue out at him.

About an hour later, Anna and Jo had gone up to Jo’s room to sleep, Balthazar was nodding off, Ash was asleep on the pool table—how he found that so comfortable, Cas did not understand,—Adam was sprawled out in a chair with his eyes closed, Dean was lying on the sofa asleep and under the blanket Cas had brought down earlier, and Cas was back in his sweatshirt again and watching a Doctor Who rerun. It was a weeping angels episode, which was pretty much Castiel’s favorite Who monster.

From the other end of the couch, Dean stirred slightly, but he had several times already, so Cas thought nothing of it. A minute or two later though, Dean asked, “What the hell are you watching?”

Cas almost jumped and looked over at Dean from his corner of the couch. “Doctor Who.”

“What?”

Cas smiled to himself. “ _Who_.”

“Haha, smartass. Just try not to stay up all night, Mr. Owl.”

Cas was pretty sure Dean intended a pun.

* * * 

Castiel jerked awake, heart racing, and took in his surroundings. Vague shapes were illuminated by the changing light of an almost muted television. Where was he? He was extremely uncomfortable. His neck was at an awkward angle and he was sitting up for the most part and…Jo. He was at Jo’s house, along with Dean, Anna, Gabe, Balthazar, and Dean’s other friends.

“Cas?”

Cas looked over and saw a human shaped form lying on the sofa. Dean. He was on the sofa with Dean.

“You okay?”

Cas didn’t answer, not trusting his voice.

“How are you not freezing? C’mere.” Pause. He thought he saw Dean roll his eyes. “I’m pretty sure Gabe found his way into Balthazar’s lap, and Anna and Jo are probably sleeping in her bed. “It’s not weird, it’s just cold. Now seriously, get under here,” Dean said, lifting the blanket up.

Cas bit his lip. He was used to being cold, but having the warmth of an extra body…and maybe he’d sleep better…

He crawled over to the couch’s other end and burrowed under the blanket, pressed close to Dean. It wasn’t as if the couch was a football field, he couldn’t help it.

Dean sighed. “You better not drool,” he said, already sounding like he was drifting back to sleep.

Cas closed his eyes against Dean’s shirt and wallowed in the warmth of Dean. _It’s not weird, it’s just cold._


	6. Chapter 6

Dean liked having Cas close. He was warm and he liked feeling like he could protect Cas. Despite having only known him for a week or two, he was already starting to feel like a second brother, though no one could ever replace Sammy.

He felt Cas stir underneath his arm and opened his eyes blearily. The other boy’s eyes were already open, unnaturally blue in the dim light. For several minutes, they just stared at each other in silence. It wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable, it was just nice.

“What time is it?” Dean eventually asked.

Cas shrugged minutely, and Dean was momentarily distracted by his wild hair. He resisted the urge to run his fingers through it.

He lifted his head a lazy inch and glanced around the room. “No one else s’awake yet.” When Cas didn’t say anything, Dean said, “You’re really quiet.”

Cas gave another tiny shrug.

Dean, still half asleep, poked Cas on the nose. “You need a comb.”

“What?”

“You have sex hair,” Dean said. “All the time.”

Cas furrowed his brow in what Dean thought was disapproval. “You’re slow to wake up.”

“And you’re slow to fall asleep.

Cas moved to get up, but Dean tightened his arm around him. “I’ll get cold.”

“You have a blanket,” Cas said dryly before sliding out from beneath Dean’s arm.

“Where’re you going?”

Cas looked over his shoulder. “To get something to drink.”

* * *

Castiel was a liar. He didn’t use to be, but after things went way south, he’d started. Little lies at first. Hiding things, reassuring people. He didn’t like lying. He took no pleasure in it. But he didn’t want to attract attention, and the easiest way to do that was lying.

Whenever Castiel lied to Dean, a tally appeared in his head. _To get something to drink._ Lie. Even just evading the truth started the unwanted counting system up.

He walked silently up the stairs. According to the clock on the wall, It was barely past seven-thirty. He shut the bathroom door and clicked the lock in place behind him.

What was he doing here? He shouldn’t be with these people, these people that were _nice_ to him, that actually didn’t hate him. Or just didn’t know him.

He sat down on the cold floor and pulled his knees up to his chest. What was wrong with him? Thinking he could just be around people without everyone suffering for it.

He pushed his hair back with his hand. _You have sex hair. All the time._ It wasn’t okay for Dean to just say things like that. Even if he was half asleep and not fully functioning. If someone heard him say that…Cas didn’t want to think about what would happen.

Cas wished he had a razor blade. Or even a pair of scissors. Or just something. But he didn’t dare raid the Harvelles’ drawers; that was just stupid and discourteous. He dug his fingers painfully into his arm. Why was he such an idiot?

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there on the bathroom floor for, but he eventually went back downstairs. Everyone was still asleep.

As inviting as the small space next to Dean looked, Cas instead sat on the floor and leaned his back against the couch. It would be better for everyone if he started separating himself. He should’ve never left his isolated corner of life.

* * *

When Dean woke up, the space beside him was unoccupied. He lifted his head and saw Cas sitting on the floor by the other end of the couch with his back against it and his head tilted backwards. His eyes were closed, but Dean got the feeling he wasn’t asleep. He wasn’t sure what time it was, but everyone was still asleep so he was guessing it wasn’t too late, though Anna had wanted to get back preferably before seven so she could do homework.

“What’re you doing down there?” Dean asked quietly, feeling more awake that he had the other times he’d woken up.

Cas opened his eyes and rolled his head so he was looking at Dean. Dean saw something different in the blue, like something moving just below the surface of dark water. He couldn’t make out what it was.

“I didn’t want to wake you up—when I came back down, you were already asleep again.”

“Well, come here. It’s probably still gonna be a while before everyone wakes up. What time is it, anyway?”

“Not quite nine,” Cas answered, making no move to get up.

“Dude, there’s no reason for you to be on the floor.”

“Garth is,” he answered simply.

Dean frowned. “And Gabe _was_ on the floor.”

“And I _was_ on the couch.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “You’re impossible.”

Cas didn’t say anything back, just returned his head to its original position and reclosed his eyes.

Dean got a funny sinking feeling in his stomach.

* * *

School on Monday wasn’t that great. Dean had decided doing the reading assignment wasn’t actually that important and that he could just bullshit his way through it, but apparently Mr. Shurley—Chuck—was extremely serious when it came to comprehension. He didn’t care so much if the students didn’t do things on time, so long as they got it done, but God help you if you lied to the man. Now Dean had a paper to write that was due by the end of the week. In Field Biology, there was a pop quiz—which apparently happened every Monday, but Dean just didn’t know about it—and he’d completely put off doing any of his Algebra II homework. Auto Shop was decent, but only because Dean already knew most of the stuff from having worked on his own car and helping Bobby out back in Lawrence practically since he could walk.

And then there was the issue of Cas. Dean thought that he’d finally began acting…happier, and then all of a sudden, he dropped back down, silent almost all the time, disengaged. Dean didn’t like it. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but he was going to find out and then help make it better.

Somehow, Cas had managed to avoid running into Dean at his locker all day. Dean thought maybe he’d stayed home, but he was proven wrong when he saw Cas at his locker at the end of the day. It was a few minutes after the last bell—Dean had gotten late out of Auto Shop.

“Hey, Cas!”

He saw the boy’s slight shoulders tense up, but chose to ignore it. He needed a plan of action…

“You like old books, right?”

“Define old.”

“Like…historical literature?”

“What are you implying?”

“I’m not implying anything,” Dean said. “But if I was, it would be that I might not be fluent in archaic language and could possibly need help in a certain class involving that.”

Cas sighed. “Chuck can help you if you need it.”

“Please?” Dean found himself wishing that he had Sam with him to give Cas his signature puppy dog look.

Cas continued shoving his books into his bag and Dean waited through his silence.

Finally, Cas said, “If I help you with this, there’s no need for the entire school to find out.”

Dean nodded once. If that would enable him to keep an eye on Cas, then fine. “Right.”

“Then I can try to help you.”

“Great,” Dean said with a grin. “I’ve gotta pick up Sam, get some stuff to eat tonight, and then we can head over to my house.”

Cas swung his messenger bag over his shoulder and walked alongside Dean.

“You know, Sam thought you were really cool. I bet he’ll be happy to see you again.”

A small smile touched Cas’ lips. “Sam was nice.” After several beats of silence, Cas asked, “Will your dad care?”

Dean shrugged. “He’s out of town and won’t be back until late tonight—or early tomorrow, depending.”

“What does he do?”

“He’s a private investigator. He’s not home much, so me and Sam live on our own a lot.”

“You and your brother are close,” Cas noted.

“Yeah. Yeah, we are.”

“What about your mom? What does she do?”

Dean glanced down as they passed through the school doors before he spoke. “My mom died before I was five.”

“Oh—I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—“

“No, you’re fine,” Dean assured him. “You didn’t know.” Dean felt like he could trust Cas, so he said, “She was murdered. That’s why my dad became a PI—to try and bring down her killer.”

“Has he?” Cas asked hesitantly.

Dean shook his head. “Turns out, serial killers aren’t all that easy to catch.”

Cas gaped. “ _Serial killer_?”

Dean nodded. “The bastard targeted mothers with a child, usually six months old or so.”

“That’s awful.”

By now they’d reached Baby and they got in the car in silence. Dean turned the radio on and the two listened to the tail end of Back in Black as they drove the short distance to pick up Sam.

“Cas! Hey!” his little brother said elatedly. “I didn’t know you were coming over.”

“I’m helping Dean with a class,” Cas explained.

“Only one?” Sam teased.

“Hey,” Dean warned. “Don’t start.”

“What are we having for supper?” Sam asked.

“I was gonna run the store and pick something up before we went home.”

“We should just order pizza later,” Sam suggested.

“Really? Pizza again?”

“Dude,” Sam said. “Don’t pretend you don’t like it.

“Fine. You get to explain to Dad where all the money went.”

Sam stuck his tongue out. “Fine.”

“You good with pizza?” Dean checked with Cas.

He got a shrug in response—better than nothing.

The drive home was filled with Sam rambling about how fantastic this girl he’d started talking to was. Apparently she was cute, blonde, and her name was Jess. They were almost home when Sam said, “You know, I haven’t heard you talk about any girls since we moved. You used to be with someone different every other week.”

Dean shrugged. “The only girl I’ve met here who isn’t a total bitch is Anna.”

“The girl that hangs out with Gabe and Balthazar?”

“Yup.”

Dean pulled into the driveway and he, Sam, and Cas went inside.

 

Two hours later, Dean was starting to understand The Iliad—at least _he_ thought he was. Cas looked ready to bang his head into a wall or throw Dean through a window. Or both.

“So, basically, they’re gay.”

Cas threw his head back. “Comitatus between two men does not automatically make them gay.”

“They slept together.”

Cas narrowed his eyes at Dean and when he realized what he said, he felt slightly stupid. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. Okay, now Agamemnon—“

“I’m sorry, but I’m really getting gay vibes.”

“Fine!” Cas said in exasperation. “Interpret it however you want. Call them gay. It doesn’t really matter. Either way, they meant something to each other. Now _focus_. Agamem—“

“Dean?” Sam called as his footsteps came down the hall.

Cas started to roll his eyes, but it turned into an all-out head roll. Sam poked his head into Dean’s room and said, “I’m hungry.”

“What kind of pizza did you want?” Dean asked.

“Cas should pick,” Sam said.

“I don’t need an—“

“Cas, please shut up. I will shove the food down your throat. Come on, what’s your favorite kind of pizza?”

He looked down at his hands and went into deep thought.

Dean couldn’t help it—he gaped. “I’m sorry, do you not know what kind of pizza you like?”

“Usually I just eat leftovers,” Cas said. “Or whatever’s in the freezer.”

Deans shook his head. “I’m ashamed, Cas. Really. Sam, order a large. Half taco, half pineapple-chicken. You know what? No. Scratch that. We’re gonna fatten Twigstiel up. Two mediums. Half taco, half pineapple-chicken, half meat lover’s, half whatever you want. Pepperoni or something, I dunno. And get some chocolate dunkers.”

“Your wish is my command,” Sam said sarcastically as he walked away. They heard him ordering downstairs.

“You’ve had chocolate dunkers, right?” Dean asked Cas.

“Well…”

“Aw, man, you have not _lived_.” He shoved the books from his lap onto the bed. “Let’s go. We’ll go into town and get something to drink and then pick up the pizza.”

“I don’t think you’re really grasping—“

“Dude. Homework can wait. Food.”

Cas sighed like a mother would sigh at an over-excited child and followed Dean down the stairs.

“Have some plates ready,” Dean said to Sam as his little brother hung up the phone.

 

* * *

 

At the dollar store, Dean picked up a couple two liters and, while Cas wasn’t looking, grabbed a few bottles of Snapple—in case he came over again.

“You don’t drink tea,” Cas stated when they were back in the Impala.

Dean gave him an annoyed look. “You don’t drink acid.”

“No one drinks acid in their right mind.”

“I’m ending this conversation before it goes any further,” Dean said.

When they pulled into the Pizza Hut drive-thru, Dean noticed Cas got a little tense—like at McDonald’s. He tried not to think about how pissed the people in this town made him as he took the pizza boxes from…was that Ruby?

“Hey, rifle boy,” she greeted. She was the brunette Ruby.

“Ruby,” Dean said tersely.

She looked past him to Cas. “Castiel! Surprised to see you here. You’re normally not out.”

Dean didn’t like the way she said that, and he felt his defensive side kick in. “I could say the same to you. I have to admit, I took your for more of a burger flipping kind of person.”

Her gaze turned fiery in an instant. “Watch yourself, Winchester. You’re in a precarious position—and if you fall, there’s no getting back up.”

He handed her the cash and, before driving off, said, “Keep the change, buttercup. Your street corner’s been looking a little deserted.”

It took Cas a few minutes before he said anything. “You just called Ruby Radcliff a whore.”

Dean shrugged. “Isn’t she?”

“Ruby. Radcliff,” he repeated to himself. And then he did something really surprising— _he laughed_. It didn’t last long, but it was real. And even if the smile didn’t stay long, it still had been there, if only for a matter of seconds. “I like you, Dean Winchester,” he declared. “You’re an idiot, but I like you.”

Dean beamed.

 

* * *

 

Back at the house, Sam had plates set out on the table, along with glasses for each of them. Dean opened the pizzas boxes and set them amongst the plates and asked Cas to get some ice out of the freezer.

“Ew!” Dean shouted.

Sam gave him a funny look. “What?”

“You got supreme.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Only on half.”

“Dude. You can’t eat a veggies-only pizza. That’s not pizza. Cas, back me up here.”

“There is nothing wrong with vegetables,” Cas said as he dropped ice cubes into each of the three glasses.

Dean groaned. “Seriously? What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m a vegetarian,” Cas deadpanned.

Dean had a moment of panic, then remembered Cas had gotten chicken over the weekend. He shoved him playfully, sending him bumping into Sam.

“Liar.”

A smirk played at the corners of Cas’ mouth.

“That was good,” Sam said.

Dean pointed at his little brother. “Just you wait. He’s a tricky bastard—he’ll get you when you’re least expecting it. Remember when I came home with paint in my hair?”

Sam laughed. “That was you?” he asked Cas.

The blue-eyed boy’s lips spread into a smile. “That was me,” he asserted.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Dean warned Sam.

Sam put on his “who, me?” puppy dog face.

“Don’t give me that look, bitch.”

“I believe you were looking for the word ‘puppy’.”

Sam burst into laughter and Dean pouted.

“You should just stop talking, Dean,” Sam said, still laughing.

Dean huffed and plopped down in a chair. “I hope that bitch spit in your so-called pizza,” he muttered.

Sam finally got a handle on himself and sat one another side of the square table. Cas followed his suit and also took a seat. After Dean grabbed a slice of taco and meat lover’s and Sam had grabbed two slices of his nasty shit, Cas reached for the smallest slice of pineapple-chicken.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Dean said. He scooped up the largest slice and set it on Cas’ plate before he could protest. “Eat up.”

Cas gave him a rather dirty look, but took a bite—a bird-bite, maybe, but a bite nonetheless. A thoughtful expression crossed his face for a moment before he said, “This is delicious.”

Dean grinned. “This is food of the gods.”

After a time, they somehow got back to the comitatus discussion, this time with Sam, research addict that he was, he knew exactly what it was.

“It doesn’t mean gay,” Sam said. “It’s a special kind of friendship.”

“See?” Cas I-told-you-so’d.

“Is that what you two were arguing about? For like an hour?”

Dean ignored Sam’s latter question. “But—“

“Why are you stuck on the sexual aspect of it?” Sam questioned. “Does it even matter that much?”

Dean didn’t even have to look to know that Cas was smiling. “Obviously, I’m just more insightful than the both of you.”

Sam rolled his eyes.

“Then I guess you don’t really need help, do you?” Cas teased.

Dean threw a piece of sausage at him. “Have fun getting a ride home. Oh, wait. You’re a bird, right? You can just fly.”

Cas flung a small wad of melted cheese Dean’s way. “How hard can it be to hotwire a car?”

“No one’s touching the Baby’s insides but me.”

Cas raised an eyebrow. “Baby?”

“He’s actually going to marry his car,” Sam said as he stood and put his plate in the sink.

“Have fun doing dishes,” Dean countered.

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

Sam turned the water on and added some dish soap to the steamy water nonetheless.

“Won’t he make a great mom someday?” Dean asked Cas.

“Of course. And you’ll make a great lipstick model.”

Dean’s surprise went unnoticed when Sam started laughing because that totally meant Cas had been looking at Dean’s lips. He recovered quickly with, “I hope the two of you don’t become hair modeling rivals.”

Sam sent a spray of dishwater Dean’s way. “Twenty bucks says hair models make more than lip models.”

Dean gave his brother the middle finger.

 

* * *

 

Two hours later, Cas was doing pre-calculus homework and Dean was attempting algebra II.

“Whoever thought of exponents must’ve chatted with Satan on a regular basis,” he announced.

Cas looked up from his textbook. “They’re not that bad. What were you going over in math before you transferred?”

“Not this.”

Cas came away from the wall he’d been leaning against to see Dean’s work. “Do you have any notes?”

Dean snorted and Cas rolled his eyes. He leaned over the edge of the bed to retrieve a binder from his book bag and Dean tried not to stare too much at his hands—though he supposed it was better than staring at his eyelashes and the light shadows they cast in the room’s lighting.

Cas pulled a page out and handed it to Dean. “Here. These are my notes from last year. They’ve got the exponential laws and some examples of each.”

Dean stared at the paper for a minute. “This makes a lot more sense.”

Cas laughed quietly. “Miss Rosen lets you use notes on tests too, so you can just keep those if you want. I think I’ve got them written down again somewhere else.”

“Thanks,” Dean said, and he went back to doing the assignment which was a lot easier now that he knew what the hell he was doing.

 

* * *

 

“Dean?” Dean looked up from the school’s copy of The Iliad to see Sam peeking his head in. “You know it’s after eleven-thirty, right?”

“ _What_?”

“Yeah. After that ‘movie break’ you should’ve just taken Cas home right away.” He cast a glance over at an unconscious Cas with his back leaned up against the wall and history textbook in his lap. “I’m going to bed. Remember Dad’ll be home before we wake up tomorrow.”

“Right. Good night, Sam.”

“’Night, Dean.”

He listened as his brother’s feet padded down the hall to his own room. What was he going to do about Cas? He reached out and gently shook one of his skinny arms. “Cas, wake up.”

Castiel’s eyes opened as easily as if he’d just been resting them for a few seconds.

“It’s almost midnight,” Dean said. “Do you mind just crashing here?”

“Midnight?” Cas gawked.

“Yeah. I didn’t notice until Sam said something. Do you need to call your dad?”

“He’s not home,” Cas said dismissively.

“Awesome. So…if you wanna shower, go ahead.” Dean got up and walked over to his dresser, opening the top drawer. “I’m pretty sure I’ve got some stuff you can sleep in,” he said, pushing a couple things over to the side and finding a pair of pajama pants and an old AC/DC shirt. He tossed them at Cas. “There should be a pack of toothbrushes under the sink. You can use one of those.”

 

* * *

 

Cas tried not to think about the fact that he was at Dean Winchester’s house, showering in Dean Winchester’s bathroom, and using a toothbrush from beneath Dean Winchester’s sink. Cas also tried not to think about what would happen if his Dad got back from his business trip early and noticed Cas wasn’t at home. Instead, he focused on the fact that he was holding Dean Winchester’s clothes and how they smelled so _nice_. Like Dean. Like a safe harbor—a safe harbor prone to enemy bombs, but a safe harbor nonetheless. And maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

He turned on the water and let it run for a couple minutes while he got undressed. There were a stack of towels on a small cabinet and Cas grabbed the tan one off the top, and hung it on the rod on the shower door. He tested the water with his hand and, finding it was the right temperature, stepped in and slid the glass shut behind him.

He indulged and allowed himself to stand under the almost-too-hot water for two or three minutes before applying shampoo.

When he was finished, he turned the water off and reached out to grab the towel and dried off in the shower. Once dressed, he towel dried his hair the best he could, brushed his teeth, grabbed his clothes, and went back to Dean’s room, being sure to keep the inside of his forearms hidden beneath his jeans, tee, and sweatshirt.

“That was quick,” Dean noted.

“I didn’t want to be rude.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Being rude would be spitting on all the toothbrushes.”

“Then I guess I wasn’t rude.”

“Good. The bed’s big enough, you can just crash there. Unless you’re a night owl, then you can leave the lamp on or something. I’ll be done in a few minutes.” He left the room, pajamas in hand.

Cas decided to try and get some quality sleep in—usually he didn’t finally fall asleep until two or three, but here he felt like he would move into unconsciousness faster than his own house; he felt much more sound here.

He dropped his clothes by his bag and climbed into the bed, curling up into a ball under the covers. He inhaled, exhaled, and relaxed.

 

* * *

 

Dean pretended not to take particular notice of the way his clothes hung on Cas’ slim body, or the way his dark hair stuck up every which way even when it was wet. And when he was showered and dressed for bed, he pretended not to take particular notice of Cas lying a mere two feet away from him, out like a light.

Dean crawled under the covers and reached over to turn off the lamp. In the darkness, he could hear Cas’ almost silent breathing, He closed his eyes and drifted quickly into sleep.

 

* * *

 

Dean awoke, not sure why at first, but then he heard uneven breaths coming from Cas, and realized the mattress had shifted slightly—Cas was sitting upright.

“Cas?”

“Sorry,” he apologized in a whisper.

“What is it?” Dean asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Nothing. I just…I just had a dream.” He laid back down and rolled over so he was facing the wall.

Dean stayed awake a few minutes longer, debating. Would it be weird for him to lay his arm over Cas? He’d just had a nightmare, so some comfort would be good for him. But Dean didn’t want to make it weird. Then again, they’d slept together on a couch way smaller than a bed.

Dean shifted, moving over a few inches, and draped his arm over Cas. The other boy tensed and didn’t say anything, but after a few moments, he relaxed under the touch.

 

* * *

 

Cas awoke before Dean and before anyone else, it sounded like. His eyes adjusted to the dark just enough to make out the shape of Dean. Sometime in the night, they’d moved so that Cas was facing Dean, pressed up against him even, and Dean’s arm was slung loosely over Cas’ shoulders.

Cas breathed in deep and closed his eyes again. It would be a while before the rest of the world woke up and he wanted to enjoy his sparing moments of peace.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean woke up around 6:30 to the sight of a pair of big blue eyes. “Hey,” he said with a smile. “How long’ve you been awake?”

“Dean.”

Dean lifted his head and saw his dad standing in the doorway.

“Hey, Dad.” He didn’t think about what his dad probably thought of the situation, because it was Cas and so what if they were sleeping in the same bed and Dean had his arm around Cas? But when he took in the look on John’s face he realized what it must look like and turned a little red. “Uh…this is Cas. He’s a friend from school. He was helping me out with homework last night and we lost track of time…” He sat up and cleared his throat. Cas did the same. “We’re not…I mean…we’re friends.”

John gave Dean a stern gaze, but eventually said, “I’ve got some breakfast downstairs. Plenty for another guy.”

“Thanks,” Dean said as John turned and left.

“Is he mad?” Cas asked quietly.

“Nah,” Dean said dismissively. “He was just surprised.” In truth, Dean wasn’t sure—sometimes it was hard to judge whether John was angry or not. He rolled out of bed and turned on the overhead light. “We can stop by your house so you can get some clothes. If Sam’s not already in the bathroom, you can go in first.”

 

* * *

 

Dean’s dad had gotten donuts and Cas ate his as they drove back into town. Once at his house, Cas hurried to find some clothes. He grabbed a jacket and changed into a pair of jeans, brushed his teeth, grabbed his bag, and rushed back out.

“You think you can just wear my clothes whenever you want?” Dean asked as Cas slid back into the passenger seat.

He glanced down and realized he’d left on the AC/DC shirt. “Oh—I—“

“Dude. Kidding.”

“Right.”

After they dropped Sam off, Cas turned to Dean and asked, “People won’t know this is your shirt, will they?” He was pretty sure he hadn’t seen Dean wear it yet, but he wasn’t sure. “They’d give you so much shit—“

Dean surprised him by saying, “So? I don’t care what they think. You shouldn’t either. You’re wearing my shirt. So what. Don’t girls wear each others’ clothes all the time?”

Cas frowned. He should’ve just remembered to change shirts.

“You should come to lunch today,” Dean told him, getting out of the car.

Cas followed the suit and said, “The school’s food is gross.”

Dean shrugged. “It’s pizza today—I’ve been told that’s decent.”

Cas snorted. “By who, Gabriel? You could pour the grease from it into a cup and drink it.”

Dean frowned. “You should still come.”

Cas chewed his lip in thought. “Maybe.”

 

When lunch rolled around, Cas stood outside the cafeteria doors for at least five minutes, debating. In the end, he turned and went to wait lunch out in the restrooms.

 

* * *

 

In the two weeks that followed, Dean got closer with Anna, Gabe, and Balthazar, and he liked to think with Cas, too, but sometimes he really wasn’t sure. His blue-eyed friend still didn’t come to lunch and Dean was starting to accept that maybe it just wasn’t his thing. Most days, Cas came over after school—except for when his dad was home, which Dean never asked about, though he was curious.

And so Friday night, Cas was over, Sam was hanging out with Jess, and later he’d spend the night at Andy’s. John had picked up another case a couple days ago and was two states over.

“Cas, this is the weirdest show I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s a classic,” Cas said from beside him on the couch.

“I thought you said classic who was the stuff in the sixties—this is the modern one.”

Cas threw a couple pieces of popcorn at him. “Shut up.”

A few minutes later, Dean said, “You know, I think your hair is actually crazier than this guy’s.”

Cas threw more popcorn at him. “Matt Smith has excellent hair.”

Dean shrugged. “The ginger’s pretty cute.”

“Amy.”

“What?”

“Amy Pond.”

“Right.”

They bickered as per usual, and Cas even got Dean to do a little bit of reading for historical lit.

After Dean showed off his freezer food cooking skills, the two boys sprawled out on the living room floor, some crime show playing low on the TV.

“So, Castiel Novak. I think it’s time I found out more about you.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “You know plenty.”

“Yeah, I know little things. But I don’t know what the big picture is.”

“The big picture is made up of little things,” Cas said.

“Shut up. You know what I mean. Like…what’s your dad do?”

Cas shrugged. “He works for some big company. I…I actually don’t really know. He travels a lot and he’s strict.”

“You two don’t get along,” Dean guessed.

That was one way to put it. “No, I suppose not.”

“Okay, what about the rest of your family. Aunts, uncles, grandparents…”

“I don’t…” Castiel sighed in frustration. He didn’t talk about his family. He didn’t think about his family. “I don’t really know them that well. Or…I didn’t really know anyone outside of my immediate family. When my parents were married, it wasn’t approved, I guess, and so they cut contact. At least that’s what I’ve gathered.” He frowned in thought. He usually didn’t say this much, but it was Dean, and Dean deserved to know some of what had happened in this convoluted part of Omaha. Cas righted himself. “I…my mother died in a car accident when I was five. So did my twin.”

Dean’s mouth fell open and he sat up. “You had a twin?”

“Yes. Jimmy.” He smiled fondly on his few and vague memories. “I don’t remember much, but I remember he loved hamburgers. He was a tiny little thing and he could eat a massive burger all on his own.”

“Wow. A twin.”

“Yeah. When they…after they died, my father went downhill fast. With Anna’s mom, he was a little better, but you wouldn’t have known unless you’d already been living with him for years. After they divorced, he got worse again.” Cas looked down at his and Dean’s legs, his own crossed and opposite of him while Dean’s were stretched out, obviously relaxed.

“What’s your dad like?”

“Not fatherly.”

“You…when I found you beat up and was going to take you home…you sounded kind of scared. Cas, does he—“

“No,” Cas snapped. “He does his thing, I do mine. Our…personalities clash.”

“Then why do you always stay home when he’s home?” Dean questioned.

“Like I said, he’s strict.”

Dean didn’t look like he believed him, but he let it slide. “So. You had a twin. Were you identical?”

“Yes,” Cas said. “We were very different, but we did look the same. I know there’s some pictures somewhere.”

“You should show me sometime. Maybe I could come over this weekend.”

“My father’s getting back later tonight.”

“Okay, so maybe next weekend.” He turned his head to look at the clock on the wall. “You should probably get home then. It’s almost ten. C’mon.”

They drove back in a comfortable silence, but as they pulled into the Novaks’ driveway, Dean asked, “What about your mom? What was she like?”

Cas took his hand from where it was resting on the door handle. “She was everything good,” he started. “I remember her hair was the exact color of chocolate and when she was in the sun you could see red in it. She had these big blue eyes that sparkled all the time and she was always smiling. Not big and cheesy, but small smiles. And they were contagious. I remember when we’d go to the grocery store and the cashiers would always look bored or tired or like they were having a bad day, but after she went through the line, she’d always leave them with a smile.”

Dean’s lips turned up at the corners. “My mom had blue eyes too.” He didn’t say anything else and Cas didn’t push, but he didn’t get out of the car either.

The moment morphed into something else and for once Cas just went with it. He’d just told Dean more than he’d told anyone in years and maybe that clouded his judgment, but maybe it didn’t. So when he leaned in towards Dean and the other boy moved closer, Cas didn’t think about rejection. Dean wasn’t pulling away, so Cas couldn’t possibly be reading the situation wrong.

And when their lips met, Cas just wanted to melt into Dean and stay there forever. He felt a warmth that he could barely remember ever feeling before and everything was just so _nice_ and he for a few glorious moments, Cas stopped thinking about having to keep a carefully constructed blank mask on, he didn’t think about staying void of emotion, he let himself—but nothing good ever stayed for Cas.

Dean pulled abruptly away. “Shit.”

Cas immediately realized his mistake and all but ran out of the car. _Stupid._ What had he been thinking? He hadn’t been, that was the problem. _Stupid._ He ruined everything. Anything remotely good always ended up going directly to hell. Don’t pass go, don’t collect two hundred dollars.

Dean didn’t try to stop him.

Cas supposed he was lucky he didn’t get kicked out.

 

* * *

 

Shit _._

Dean didn’t know how else to react. Cas had just _kissed_ him, for God’s sake. _And you kissed him back._

Shit.

By the time Dean’s senses came back, Cas had already flown out of the car and disappeared into the house.

How had that even happened?

For several minutes, he just kept his car parked in the driveway, trying to process the situation. How had he not seen that coming? How long had it been coming for?

Dean found himself at an utter loss and before he even fully realized what he was doing, he was dialing Anna’s number. It only rang once before her voice sounded from the other end of the line.

“Dean?”

“Can I come over?” he blurted out.

“Yeah—what’s going on?”

“I don’t even know what happened,” he blabbed. “I had Cas over and then I was taking him home and we got talking about his twin and then we started talking about our parents and it got really quiet and then he just kissed me and then I think I reacted badly and he ran inside and—“

“Get over here,” she said. “Just come inside when you get here.”

And that’s exactly what Dean did.

 

“Did I really mess up?”

Dean wasn’t sure if Anna’s eyes were stern or scrutinizing or both. They were sitting on her bed in the empty house—her mom was visiting her sister out of town—and Dean had just finished explaining what had happened.

“This isn’t your fault,” she said decidedly. “But you shouldn’t have…” She pressed her lips together, unsure of how to say what she was thinking. “You have to be careful with Cas. And especially after he told you about Jimmy. That’s something he _never_ mentions and if he felt comfortable enough with you to even bring it up, then you can pretty much guarantee that he trusts you.”

“But I don’t like guys!” Dean said a little too loud. “I mean—I’m straight, I didn’t know that…”

Anna raised a delicate red eyebrow. “As far as I knew, Cas was straight too. But so what? _Do_ you like him?”

“No. I mean, I don’t think so.” He groaned. “ _I don’t know_.”

A carefully evaluated idea flickered across Anna’s face and she leaned forward, bringing her lips to Dean’s. Dean’s was surprised by the kiss and even more when Anna’s tongue pushed into his mouth, but it wasn’t unpleasant, so Dean returned it.

Anna pushed him onto his back and shifted so her knees were straddling his hips. The intense make-out session lasted only a few minutes before Anna pulled away and sat up.

“Where’d that come from?” Dean asked, moving so he was leaning back on his elbows.

“You know, most guys would’ve been trying to get into my pants by that time.”

Dean frowned. “You do this often?”

Anna rolled her eyes. “No, jackass. But did you want to?”

He opened his mouth, but wasn’t sure what to say—anything would sound offensive at this point.

“You didn’t,” she answered for him. “And when I stopped, you just let me go.”

Dean frowned. He was starting to see where she was going with this and he didn’t know what to think. In fact, he found himself trying _not_ to think about what it meant.

“I get that you might be a little freaked right now, but you need to see Cas. Asap. Before he does anything rash.”

Dean sat up straighter and dragged his hand down his face. “Son of a bitch. What am I supposed to say?”

Anna tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “You tell me. Or rather, you tell _him_.”


	8. Chapter 8

Dean was a horrible person. Why? Because after Anna had told him to go see Castiel, instead he’d driven straight home. And then on Saturday he’d driven out to Lawrence to pick up Sam and with the intent of hanging out with Jo, but instead he ended up sitting in his car in an empty field for most of the day. And then on Sunday, he saw that Cas had forgotten his Doctor Who box set at his place and instead of driving into town to return it, he stuffed it into his book bag and told himself he’d get it back to him on Monday.

Of course, Cas wasn’t at school on Monday. And that was when Dean knew without a doubt that he was an awful, awful human being.

When Dean didn’t see him before the bell rang, he figured Cas had just gotten there earlier than him. He sat through American History, not hearing a word that came out of Mr. Stark’s—or anyone else’s—mouth. When the bell rang, he gathered his things and went to Painting, but five, ten, fifteen minutes after the bell rang, there was still no sign of him.

That’s when it really started to sink in. Dean was a terrible friend.

So as soon as the bell rang, he ditched lunch and drove straight to Cas. How stupid could he be? Anna had known Cas for years and she’d told him, go right back, but Dean was an idiot and didn’t know what to say and now Cas wasn’t in school and if something had happened to him—Dean didn’t even want to think about it.

At the door, Dean had a three-second debate with himself on whether to knock or let himself in. If he did knock, he was pretty sure Cas wouldn’t answer. And if the door was locked…but it wasn’t.

Inside, it was quiet and all the lights were off. Dean took that to mean Mr. Novak wasn’t home, so that had to be a good thing. And it wasn’t like he was breaking and entering anyway—the door had been open.

The Novak house was one story, but by no means small. On one side, the kitchen and dining room were joint and separated from the fairly massive living room and on the other there was a hallway with several doors on either side. Dean tried the first door, but it was locked. The second door led to an empty bedroom, presumably Cas’ dad. The third door was also locked and Dean grew slightly worried that Cas was in one of the locked rooms. The next door he tried was already cracked open and when he pushed it open farther, it revealed a shattered mirror, a jug of bleach, and blood all over the floor. His pulse quickened as he hurriedly checked the remaining doors. He found Cas—or at least he found his room—behind the last door on the left. As he stepped through the threshold, he was greeted with a board coming straight towards his face. He barely managed to duck in time, and even then, it was more of an ungracefully-fall-to-the-floor than an action-movie-hit-the-deck.

“ _Shit_.”

Dean heard the board drop before he saw it and when he looked up, he saw a very mortified looking Castiel. Mortification quickly changed to anger.

“ _What the hell are you doing in my house?!_ ”

Dean clambered to his feet and responded with a question. “What are you doing trying to kill me?”

“I thought you were a burglar!”

“And I thought you’d been murdered!”

“Just get out,” Cas snapped.

“Cas, are you even okay? There was blood…” Dean’s words drifted off as his eyes landed on a canvas leaning against the wall behind Cas. There was a dead bird at the bottom of it and what looked like blood spatter in the background— _holy shit, that was actually blood._ “Cas, what did you do?”

“Why do you care?” he hissed, followed by, “Just leave.”

Dean grabbed his arm. “Not till you tell me what happened.”

Cas snatched his arm back and recoiled, but Dean caught on quick and got a hold of his arm again.

“DON’T!” Cas roared as he violently tore himself out of Dean’s grasp.

The unexpected burst of fury shocked Dean into a momentary silence. “Cas, are you okay?” he asked after several seconds.

He’d turned his back on Dean and Dean was suddenly back to feeling like a horrible human being again.

“Damn it—I’m sorry, Cas. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was supposed to come here and apologize and instead I just messed it up even worse and—“

“Dean. Please. Just go.”

“Just…give me another chance? Please? I swear, I won’t fuck it up again, I…” And Dean knew precisely what he felt at that moment, even if he didn’t want to name it. He knew that he didn’t want to lose Cas and he knew that Cas didn’t want to lose him and he wanted to make sure Cas understood that and he knew that he was awful with words. So Dean turned him around with a hand on his shoulder and kissed him. He felt Cas’ shock, but that quickly faded as the other boy’s hands moved to Dean’s back. Dean let his tongue slide over Cas’ lips, but Cas pulled away.

“I didn’t mean to kiss you,” he said. “That was a mistake. You don’t have to—“

“Your lying skills aren’t working today,” Dean noted.

Castiel frowned at him.

“Now let me see your arm.”

Dean got a glare from Cas, but it was less threatening than the previous looks and he pulled his sleeve up from where it hung to his knuckles. His hand was wrapped in gauze, preventing Dean from actually seeing the damage.

“It’s fine, see?” he said. “I’m not the most graceful person.”

“Lousy explanation.”

A wide range of emotions flickered across Cas’ face in a matter of seconds, too fast for Dean to pin down. “I introduced the mirror to my fist.”

Dean laughed at Cas’ deadpan expression. “Fists and glass generally don’t get along.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Cas’ mouth and Dean placed a careful kiss on the upturned corners, causing the boy to break into a full grin.

So he liked Cas. A lot. So what.

“Did you get stitches?”

Cas lifted and dropped his shoulders. “I didn’t get it checked.”

“What—dude, seriously? There was a lot of blood.”

“I’m an easy bleeder. It’s not that bad.”

“Liar. Let me see it.”

“Or you could get your ass back to school,” Cas suggested.

“School’s boring,” Dean said. “Where’s your dad? I thought he was supposed to be back.”

“He got held over and then something got messed up with his plane ticket. He won’t be back until tomorrow night or the next morning.”

Dean nodded. “Hey—I’ve got your weird show in my car. I’ll go grab it before I forget.”

 

* * *

 

Castiel wasn’t sure what the hell had just happened. Dean was suddenly okay with the kiss now? Okay enough to return it? More than once? Where had that come from? Not that Cas wasn’t happy but…well, a relationship would prove to be a problem for him, he was certain. Were they even that, though? Or was this just Dean apologizing for supposedly reacting badly? Because this was one hundred percent on Cas—he should’ve kept himself in check. Kissing Dean had been completely out of line and even more completely not Castiel’s personality. And now lying to Dean would be eve harder and it wasn’t like Cas _wanted_ to lie, but it was better than telling him all the filthy truths. And how was he supposed to deal with school now? What if Dean accidentally let this slip or… _I took you for a lot of things, but a faggot was not one of them._

Castiel couldn’t do this. He couldn’t do anything more than just get by. It had been too long since he’d done anything else. And if anyone found out, then they’d target Dean and Cas couldn’t live with himself if Dean got hurt on his account. Cas didn’t want _anyone_ to get hurt on his account.

And he was fairly certain Dean’s father would not approve. And even if he was fine with the whole same-gender thing, he wouldn’t be okay with Cas himself. A feeble little self-harming—

“Got it,” Dean said, waving the DVD set in the air.

Cas took it from him and put it on its designated shelf in his closet.

Dean remained standing in the doorway.

“You can go back to school now,” Cas said. “You might be able to make it back before third block starts.”

Dean plopped down on the edge of Cas’ bed. “Nah, I think I’ll stay here. You always skip Economics anyway.”

Cas frowned at him. “I started going again.”

“Yeah, but you probably missed a lot of class periods.”

Cas dropped his head back and rolled his eyes. “Fine. Do you want anything to eat?”

“Follow me,” Cas said. Dean trailed him to the kitchen-slash-dining room and Cas spread his arms wide. “Welcome to the Great Novak Kitchen. Our specialties include spaghetti-o’s, Hot Pockets, and the occasional sandwich.”

“You know, a sandwich made the right way is godly.”

“Knock your self out,” Cas said. “I’m gonna finish cleaning up the bathroom floor.”

“I can do that,” Dean offered.

“No, you can eat. Just try not to blow anything up.”

“No promises,” Dean said as Cas began walking away. “Sliced turkey is a key ingredient in making atomic bombs.”

While he scrubbed the floor with straight bleach, Cas thought. Even if Dean’s dad was okay with it, even if most of school was okay with it (which was not even remotely possible, but _if_ ) there was still the matter of Cas’ dad.

 

* * *

 

Dean draped an arm casually over Castiel’s shoulder. It was Tuesday, the sun was out, and Dean was in a pretty damn good mood.

“You’re coming to lunch today,” he informed Cas.

“No, I’m not.”

“Yup. Come along, Novak.”

Cas covered his face with his hand. “Don’t say that. It doesn’t even rhyme.”

“So?” Dean shrugged. “Unless your middle name is Pond, then it won’t. Or…Juan. Juan could work. Castiel Juan Novak. Castiel Juanovak. Sounds kind of like a vacuum. Maybe—“

“Okay, if you shut up, I’ll go to lunch.”

Dean grinned. “Fantastic.”

Cas turned his head to look at him funny.

“What?” Dean asked.

Cas turned his head and gave Dean a sideways look. “You haven’t seen the ninth doctor yet—I know you haven’t.”

“I don’t know. You’re the fangirl.”

“ _Hmph_.”

“Don’t _hmph_ me, bird boy.”

As they walked through the cafeteria doors, Cas squirmed out from under Dean’s arm and moved so he was walking more behind him that beside him. Dean didn’t mention it.

“Aren’t you gonna eat anything?” Dean asked as he put a roll on his tray.

“I told you,” Cas said. “I don’t eat lunch.”

“If you say so. Do you want to come over today?”

“My dad’s coming back tonight—“

“I’ll have you home before him, don’t worry.”

Dean usually just drank the milk that came with the lunch, but today he grabbed a bottle of orange juice as well.

Cas said, “I guess I can, then.”

“What’s that, you’re trying to play hard-to-get?” Dean teased.

Cas glared at him. “If anyone finds out, there will be serious repercussions. You have no idea—“

“Dude, chill. I won’t say anything.” Dean really didn’t care one way or the other, but he didn’t want to upset Cas. So secrecy it was. Eventually someone would find out—that was inevitable—but they’d cross that bridge when they came to it.

Dean dared to say there were even more eyes on him and Cas now than he’d had staring at him on his first day.

“Castiel!” Gabe greeted brightly. “I’m glad you finally discovered the location of the cafeteria.”

Cas offered a small, nervous smile. “Hello, Gabriel. Anna, Balthazar.”

Ann was giving Gabe a friendly smack while Balthazar scooted over so Cas could sit without having his back facing any surrounding tables. Dean took a seat by Anna (Cas had said he wanted to keep it quiet) and slid the orange juice over to Cas.

“How much did you pay him?” Balthazar asked, not allowing Cas to say anything about the juice.

“I paid him in feathers,” Dean said around a mouthful of chicken.

Anna smacked the back of his head. “You three are such assholes.” But while no one was paying attention, she exchanged a knowing look with Dean.

“Dean convinced me to come,” Cas said.

“Does this mean you’ll be available to hang out Friday night?” Gabe asked.

“We were going to see if Dean’s posse wanted to hit Walmart since we never got to go last time,” Balthazar said, taking a bite of his sandwich.

Just then, the R2M gang slid into the three remaining seats at the table.

“Castiel,” Meg said from where she sat by Dean. “I haven’t seen you here in a while. Well over a year since you’ve actually come to lunch. Why the sudden visit?”

Cas kept his eyes aimed down at the table and Dean started to feel a familiar itch.

“Meg just asked you a question, Novak,” Blonde Ruby said, looking past Balthazar.

“Maybe he doesn’t want to answer.” Dean turned his head to look at Anna who was glaring at Brunette Ruby, though she hadn’t said anything yet.

She broke her silence with, “No one was talking to you, Milton.”

“I speak when I want, _Radcliff_.”

Dean could practically see the claws coming out and wondered what he’d missed.

“Do you really wanna do this now?” Ruby taunted, getting to her feet.

Anna stood up. “Oh, I’ve been wanting to for quite some time now.”

The two girls walked to a small open area, never taking their eyes off each other. The majority of the lunch room was now looking at them.

“Should we try and stop them?” Dean asked.

“That would prove to be a very bad decision,” Balthazar said.

“They have a bit of a history,” Gabe said.

Blonde Ruby stood and whispered something in Cas’ ear. He paled, but his eyes never left the table, and Dean watched Ruby and Meg leave.

Anna threw the first punch.

Ruby ducked and aimed for a gut hit, but Anna grabbed her fist and shoved her backwards, sending her slamming painfully into the edge of an unoccupied table. She charged the dark-haired girl, but Ruby met her halfway and the two ended up on the floor.

Dean had seen his share of chick fights. And this was most definitely not one of them. He was pretty sure some of the exchanged blows would’ve sent some boys crying to their moms—and not just sissy boys either. Hell, Dean wouldn’t eve want to take either of these girls on.

“Get her, Rub!” Meg cheered from the sidelines. “Take that bitch down!”

Balthazar got up with a sigh. “Looks like Anna Banana needs some cheerleaders.”

Gabe followed and the two began shouting violent words of encouragement. Meanwhile, Cas was in the corner practically hyperventilating. Dean left his food and got Cas to his feet. His fingers had a death grip on the bottle.

“What’s their ‘history’?” Dean asked him.

“Ruby and Anna had a…thing,” Cas explained. “They were involved for a while. Ninth grade summer, frenemies, hate sex. It was a weird situation.” Cas cringed as Anna took a fist to the face and Ruby took a blow to the stomach.

“I’m guessing it ended badly,” Dean said.

“Lilith found out,” Cas said. “She told Lucifer and he freaked out. Told Ruby if she ever tried anything like it again, she was out. For good. No one else would take her in, and she didn’t want to lose Ruby and Meg and Anna called her Luci’s little bitch. They almost put each other in the hospital that time.”

“Son of a bitch.”

“Yeah.”

One of the lunch ladies, the one everyone called Missouri, put herself between the two girls and stopped the fight.

“Everyone sit back down!” she ordered.

Anna and Ruby shot daggers at each other as Missouri walked them to the principal’s office.

“I didn’t know Anna could fight like that,” Dean said, sitting back down again.

Gabe laughed. “Neither did she, until a year or two ago. Pure instinct. Incredible. Her and Ruby.”

“Damn. Are fights in school a regular occurrence here?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Balthazar said. “The fire’s always going, but every once in a while it’ll get a little too hot.”

And when a fire gets hot, somebody gets burned.

 

* * *

 

First of all, Cas was an idiot. He should’ve just left school right away, taken the bus home. But no, Dean was making up a test he’d missed because of a field trip in some other class and Cas had promised to wait for him.

 _Stupid idea_ , he thought as his back hit the blacktop.

“Consider yourself lucky Missouri was there to break that fight up, Castiel,” Ruby said, grabbing his shirt and yanking him to his feet. “Anna almost broke Ruby’s nose— _almost_.” She punched his nose and he felt blood begin to drip almost immediately after. “And, as promised, the gut blow Anna gave her.”

Cas gasped for air as the wind was knocked out of him and wondered if Ruby would finish in time for him to get cleaned up before Dean came out.

She pulled him up and slammed him into a brick wall. “I hear you and Winchester’ve been hanging out an awful lot.” Jaw smack.” “Are you two fuck buddies or does he just pity you? Because I must say, you have one of the prettiest faces. It even looks good swollen and covered in blood.” Shin kick. “And I believe that makes us even. Everything Anna did to Ruby has now been done to you.” She shoved him down and he hit the ground. “Have a nice day.”

Cas groaned as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. Ruby was gone by the time his head stopped spinning and he hoped Dean’s test was a long one.

He got to his feet, grabbed his book bag, and left it in the passenger seat of the Impala. Then he went back inside and hurried to one of the bathrooms. He made sure no one was in any of the stalls before rolling his sleeves up and turning on the water. He splashed cold water on his face and lifted his shirt up to check the damage. Several patches of skin were already becoming discolored, turning shades of purple and blue. He pulled the fabric back down and ran his wet hands through his hair a couple times. Underneath one eye, a bruise was already forming on his cheekbone. He wet a paper towel and held it up to his nose, tilting his head back to stop the bleeding.

_Shit, shit, shit._

Okay, so he wouldn’t be able to hide it from Dean. What could he say? I got ran over by a car? Someone dropped a piano on me? Flying fucking monkeys attacked?

He groaned and dropped the paper towel in the garbage just as he heard the bathroom door swing open. _Janitor, janitor, janitor, please be a jan—_

“ _Cas_?!”

Damn it.

“What the hell happened?” Dean asked, dropping his book bag and rushing over.

“Some flying monkeys dropped a piano on me.”

“Shut up, I’m serious! I leave you for twenty minutes—“

“I’m fine, Dean.” Cas pushed his prodding hands away. “It happens all the time.”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass if it happens once a week or once a year! It shouldn’t ever!”

“Dean, can we please just leave?”

“Who was it? Was it Uriel again? I’ll smash his head into the pavement so many times, a wood chipper will—“

“It was Ruby, alright! Ruby Dague. Now let’s get out of here.”

“That blonde _bitch_ did this to you?”

“She warned me she would,” Cas said calmly. “It was my fault—“

“Like hell it was your fault! Why would you even think something like that?”

“She told me. Whatever Anna did to Ruby, she’d to do me.”

“And that’s your fault, how?”

Cas shrugged.

“You are _such_ an idiot,” Dean said, taking Cas’ hand. “Come on.”

In the hall, Cas pulled his hand out of Dean’s.

“No one’s here,” Dean said.

“Ruby was.”


	9. Chapter 9

Dean surprised him with a kiss on the lips once they were in the car. “Could you please try not to get beat up so much.”

“I was told I look good even when I’m swollen and bloody.”

“Yeah, but then I have to be gentle with you all the time.”

Cas turned his head to look out the window. “You’re the only one who ever is.”

“Hey.” Dean took Cas’ chin in his hands and made him look at him. “Don’t talk like that.” Dean pressed his lips to Cas’, softer this time. “I think you’ll find gentle can be good too.” He kissed him again, tongue sliding carefully along Cas’ bottom lip.

Cas let himself indulge for a while, but pulled away before things got too heavy. “You have to pick Sam up,” he said.

“Actually,” Dean said, “He’s going over to Jess’s house today.”

“The cute blonde girl?”

“That’s the one.”

Cas smiled. “Good for him.”

“Yeah. She’s quite the catch.”

Dean put the keys in the ignition and they pulled out of the school lot.

“Is your dad home?” Cas asked.

“He just left two nights ago—he’s a couple towns over. Staying at a hotel there. So we’ve got the house all to ourselves.” Dean raised his eyebrows comically and Cas laughed, amazed that something as good as Dean could happen to him. Dean with the bright green eyes, Dean with the universe of freckles that Cas would deny ever taking notice of because he’d seen them in painting once and he really shouldn’t have been looking at Dean that close. Dean with the perfect, kissable lips and perfectly sun-kissed skin. Dean. _His_ Dean.

“I have to ask you something.”

“Shoot,” Dean said, without taking his eyes off the road for once.

“Why me? I mean…well, you were obviously straight, or at least you thought you were, and then all of a sudden you…you’re with me. How’d you decide?”

“Honestly? Anna helped me. After what happened, I sort of freaked and she…she helped me figure things out.”

“Helped you how?”

“Promise you won’t judge?” Dean turned his jade eyes on Cas, asking him.

“No judging,” Cas promised.

“She kissed me.”

Cas tilted his head, perplexed. “She kissed you.”

Dean nodded.

“And that…helped?”

Dean braked at a stoplight. “Well…yeah. She kind of played a mind game on me and then it just…well, it clicked right away then, but I was still kind of freaked out. She told me to go back to your place right away then, but I was stupid and waited until you didn’t show up at school to see you.” He glanced over at Cas. “Well?”

“I shouldn’t be jealous, should I?”

“Definitely not.”

“Good.”

“So you’re not pissed that I kissed her or anything?”

“Anna’s smart,” Cas said. “And she’s been my friend for years—sort of. I guess her methods are just…unusual.”

“You can say that again.”

So he had Anna to thank. Cas smiled to himself, thinking back to when they’d gone to Lawrence to hang out with Dean’s friends, and sleeping on the couch with Dean. Even if he’d been fighting whatever it was that had pulled them together at the time.

“What’s so funny?” Dean asked.

“You.” Cas looked at him fondly. “Remember at Jo’s when you told me I had sex hair?”

Dean cocked his head. “I never said that.”

Cas laughed. “You were still half asleep. Maybe more.”

“I said that?” Seriously?”

“Yes, you did.”

“Shit. I guess I was obvious even when I didn’t realize.”

“But we can’t be obvious now,” Cas said seriously.

“I know, I know. You’ve said.”

“I just want to make sure you understand,” Cas said as they pulled into the Winchester’s driveway and Dean turned off the car. “I don’t think you know—“

 

* * *

 

Dean curled his fingers around the back of Cas’ neck and pulled him in, using his tongue to shut him up.

“I understand,” he said, pulling back slightly and giving quick kisses in a teasing manner, “that we…are alone…right…now.”

He moved his mouth down to Cas’ jaw line, then his neck, hands tangling in his very touchable “sex hair”. Dean smiled at the memory he didn’t actually remember and smiled even more when a quiet sound came from the back of Cas’ throat.

“Dean…the house is right there.”

Dean pretended not to hear and moved his mouth back to Cas’ perfect fucking lips and damn if he didn’t want to move Cas to the backseat and fuck him, rough or gentle, he didn’t even _care_.

Cas put two fingers to Dean’s lips and made him pause. “Slow down, cupcake.”

Dean was momentarily stunned by Cas’ use of “cupcake”. It must’ve shown, because Cas said, “You called me bird boy.”

 _Fair enough_ , he thought before letting his mouth attend to Cas’ fingers. Cas pulled those away too and placed a chaste kiss on Dean’s forehead before slipping out of the car at lightning speed—especially impressive considering his injuries.

“Homework time,” he mocked, making his way to the house.

Dean groaned. So Cas had a bit more self-control than any girl Dean had ever been with. He grabbed his book bag from the backseat and ran to catch up with him.

 

They actually did do homework—for the first thirty minutes or so. Then wound up lying on the lawn out in the backyard.

“So do I have to beat up Ruby now?” Dean asked while he stared up at the sky.

“No.” Cas’ eyes were closed last Dean checked and, even though he wasn’t looking now, he was pretty sure they still were. “She usually jus throws verbal punches. This time it was just because Anna and Ruby got into it.”

“Okay, good. I really didn’t want to beat up a girl.”

“I don’t want you beating up anyone for me. And it doesn’t matter if she’s a boy or a girl. She’s probably one of the most dangerous people you’ll ever meet. She’s just as strong as Radcliff and much faster.”

Dean turned his head to look at Cas and blades of browning grass tickled his ear. “Seriously?”

Cas kept his eyes closed. “Seriously.”

“Okay.” Dean moved his head back and re-closed his eyes. “So what about Meg?”

“Meg’s…different. She might’ve ended up with Gabriel, Balthazar, and Anna if she hadn’t been friends with the Ruby’s. They’re like the Unholy Trinity. She doesn’t care who wins or loses, as long as she’s alive. Metaphorically speaking.”

“What about that Crowley kid?” Dean asked as he processed the information. “I don’t trust him.”

“No one trusts him,” Cas said. “Not even Lucifer. He’s true to his word, but he’s clever. You’ll think he’s saying one thing, when he actually means something else entirely. There’s whispers that he plans to break away from Lucifer and start his own side or group or whatever they are.”

“I swear, your school is more complicated than fucking Westeros.” Dean heard the rustle of grass as Cas rolled his head to the side.

“You read _A Song of Ice and Fire_?”

Looking away from the sky and to Cas’ eyes instead was barely a change. “I watch Game of Thrones.”

“I didn’t think you’d watch that kind of show.”

Dean shrugged his eyebrows. “HBO knows how it’s done.”

They turned their heads back up and closed their eyes, Dean following Cas example.

“So…who wins?” he asked. “Metaphorically or whatever.”

“Honestly? Probably no one. We’ll graduate next year, some people this year, and everyone will go their separate ways.”

“So what’s the point?” Dean asked. “If it ends up not mattering?”

“You tell me,” Cas said. “Because I can’t find one.”

Dean’s hand moved to seek out Cas’ and he wound their fingers together, eyes still closed. For a while, the only sound was the autumn breeze, rustling through tree branches, causing brown and gold leaves to fall.

“How did this whole thing even start?” he asked.

Cas knew what he meant. “No one talks about it,” he said. “But there was a car accident. Michael, Lucifer, and Zachariah had a fourth brother—Zachariah’s twin, Raphael. He was taking Lucifer to a party because Zachariah didn’t want to and Michael was home studying for end of the year stuff. Both parents were out of town. I believe Michael and Lucifer were in eighth grade and Zachariah and Raphael were going to be sophomores. So Raphael driving without an adult wasn’t technically legal, but he was a good driver.

“Some drunk college kid from out of town swerved into their lane and hit them head on. The speed limit was 55 and that idiot was going almost 80. Lucifer making it out alive was a miracle in itself, even with two broken legs and fractured ribs, but Raphael and the other driver died on scene.

“Lucifer blamed Zachariah for not taking him because he’d been driving longer and if they hadn’t argued, they probably never would have met the car. The Arch parents blamed Lucifer and said he _made_ Raphael take him. Zachariah, of course, took his parents’ side and he _hated_ Lucifer for ‘killing’ his twin brother. Michael didn’t blame Lucifer, but he was an obedient son and followed his parents’ orders.

“Then it all came down to who was closest with who and people that used to tolerate each other suddenly despised each other. Basically, that’s the story.”

Dean rolled onto his side and Cas turned his head to look at him.

I thought no one knew that details of all that," he said.

"A mouse gets trapped and stepped on, but it also hears things. And it's likely no one said much to you because the accident doesn't get talked about. If Lucifer or Zachariah found out it was brought up, they'd take it as a challenge."

"Hm. Well, I think I could take them." Dean leaned over Cas and said, "And I think mice are cute," before kissing him.

He felt Cas relax under his touch and Dean didn't know how long they laid there for, exchanging lazy kisses beneath the autumn sun. When they took short breaks to breathe, Dean ran his fingers through Cas' hair or Cas would nuzzle his neck in a very Cas-way.

He bit Dean's lip playfully and it reminded Dean of a kitten and he found himself smiling as he kissed the tip of Cas' nose--which was not a Dean thing to do, but he blamed his hazy state of mind.

Cas nudged him gently and Dean rolled onto his back, bringing Cas with him so the feather-light boy was lying on top of him. Cas brushed his lips against Dean's eyelids and his breath tickled Dean's skin in a way that would’ve had him hard in ten seconds flat if he’d been thinking like that.

Dean slid his hands under Cas' shirt and traced mindless patterns on his back. Their actions held no real intent; they were just enjoying each other's company. Cas left a trail of kisses from below Dean's ear to his collarbone, then returned to giving Dean's mouth attention. Dean traced his tongue along the bottom row of Cas' teeth.

Cas moved back onto the ground and curled up beside Dean, burrowing into his arms. Dean stroke his hair the way his mother had stroked his own so many years ago, and tickled his side once, making him wriggle around a bit before Dean remembered he _had_ just gotten beat up today and he stopped to be on the safe side.

Dean was starting to wonder if Cas had fallen asleep when he heard the back door swing open.

" _Dean_?"

Son of a bitch.

He scrambled to sit up, dragging Cas with him, knowing there was no way to explain why he’d just been kissing his “just friend’s” forehead.

“Um…hey, Dad. Did you finish the job early?”

“Did you change sexuality overnight?”

“Well—“

“Isn’t this Castiel Novak? What happened to him being ‘just a friend’?”

“Dad, chill out, it’s not like either of us is going to get pregnant.”

“So now you’re having unprotected sex?!”

“What the hell, Dad, no! I’m just saying—would you please calm down a second!”

“You want me to calm down? Where’s Sam, Dean? Do you even know? Your brother is your responsibility when I’m gone and—“

“He’s at a friend’s house! A girl he really likes—and speaking of girls, you never cared when I had them over—why is Cas such a big deal?”

“Castiel, you can go home now,” John said, ignoring Dean’s question.

“He doesn’t have a car!” Dean snapped.

“Then he can call one of his parents—“

“His dad’s out of town!” Dean raised his voice louder yet.

“Then his mom—“

“His mom’s _dead_!” Dean shouted. He felt Cas cringe beside him and noticed they were both standing. (When had that happened?)

His dad finally shut up and suddenly found the ground very interesting. “If you’re not back here in twenty minutes, you’re grounded for a month.”

Dean grabbed Cas by the hand and led him to the Impala.

“Dean, my stuff’s in your room,” Cas said quietly once they reached the driveway.

“I’ll bring it to you tomorrow,” Dean promised, opening the passenger side door for him.

“I guess I had to be getting home soon anyway,” Cas said awkwardly as Dean pulled onto the road.

“I don’t know why he was such a _dick_. He’s not a homophobe, I swear. And now I’m gonna look like a dick when I pick up Sam because he’s probably just sitting down with Jess and her family for supper and—“  
“Dean, it’s fine—“

“ _No_ , it’s _not_!” he snapped.

Cas grew immediately silent and Dean sighed. “I’m sorry. Me and my dad…we have issues.”

“Most families do.”

“Yeah, I guess. Last year we had this huge fight and ever since…what was it Balthazar said? The fire’s always hot.”

“Can I ask what the fight was about?”

“My dad started seeing this girl, Eve, and whenever he was around she’d act like the nicest girlfriend ever, but she was really a total bitch. I let him know on plenty of occasions, sometimes when she was there too, but he never listened.

“Then, once when my dad was out working a job, she hit Sammy because he dropped a plate and it broke. I kinda lost it then. I pointed a gun at her head and told her she could leave or I’d shoot. And if she ever came back, I swore I’d kill her. Me and Sam never told Dad what happened, but I know he blames me for when Eve stopped returning his calls.”

When they pulled into the Novaks’ driveway, Cas went to let himself out, but Dean stopped him with a hand on his arm. “We’re good, right?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Dean wasn’t sure he believed him, but he didn’t have time to talk it over. Instead, he leaned over and covered Cas’ mouth with his own. He was pushing his twenty minutes time limit and he knew it.

“Don’t cut me out again.”

“I won’t,” Cas promised.

Dean kissed him again, this time chaste. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning,” he said.

“I’ll see you then.”

Dean kissed him one more time, just because he wanted to, and let him leave.

 

* * *

 

Cas fell onto his bed and stared up at the ceiling. It was getting dark, but he hadn’t bothered with the light. The day had gone from okay to bad to wonderful to awful. In a way, he wished he and Dean could just up and leave, but he knew that would never happen. Dean had Sam and Cas had…well, Cas didn’t have much, but Dean _did_ have Sam. Of course, Cas wouldn’t object to Sam coming too—but he was just dreaming. Cas wouldn’t leave; he didn’t have it in him.

He poked at the sensitive area around his ribs and flinched. It hadn’t exactly been comfortable before, but now the pain was starting to really set in.

He curled in on himself and tried to just think about the day’s good things, but the bad kept sneaking in. He was kissing Dean, then getting hit; he was lying next to Dean, then Dean was getting mocked.

Finally, Cas got up and went into the bathroom, locking the door behind him despite the fact that his dad wasn’t home yet. What else was there to do?

 

* * *

 

When Dean picked Sam up early from Jess’, his brother immediately asked, “What happened?”

“Dad.”

“What did he do?”

“You don’t want to get into it, Sam.”

“Dean, tell me.”

“He…he saw me and Cas hanging out.”

“…So?”

“So we were…we were doing more than hanging out.”

“Oh. I see.”

It was quiet for a few minutes before Sam said, “So you like Cas?”

Dean gripped the wheel a little tighter. “Yeah.”

“And Cas likes you?”

“I think so.”

“Then I’m glad.”

Dean turned to look at his brother. “You’re good with it?”

“Of course I am.”

“You don’t think it’s weird that I’m all of a sudden gay?”

Sam face-palmed. “Dean, you like girls, too. You’re not ‘all of a sudden gay’.”

“Right. Well, maybe you could share some of your approval with Dad.”

“He really freaked out, huh?”

“He was a total dick. When I have girls over he never acts like he did.”

“Maybe he was just shocked.”

“Right,” Dean said dubiously.

“He’ll get over it,” Sam assured him. “I’ll send out ‘positive energy’. _Wooooo_ …” Sam wiggled his fingers at him, illustrating.

Dean couldn’t help but smile just a little bit at that. “Thanks, Sam.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been like three weeks! Driver's ed and and all-day-three-day writer's conference took up loooooads of my time but I'm back to having loads of free time. YESSSSSS!!! :D So here. Have a longer chapter. (:  
> 

So things were not going well. Dean’s dad had calmed down a bit and Sam really was sending out all this weird positive energy. He had been for a week, and Cas hadn’t been over once. Apparently John was taking some time off and just hanging around the house, which usually Dean would like, but not under the circumstances.

On Friday, Jo had work, Adam had a family thing, Garth was sick, and Ash was out of town, so they didn’t get together. Next Friday was a go though—and Dean was going, regardless of what his dad said.

He was still picking Cas up and Cas stayed true to his word and hadn’t shut Dean out. He acted a little differently, but he was still there.

“Hey, Cas.”

Tuesday, Sam was in the back seat, and Dean gave Cas a peck on the lips. He seemed a bit surprised, probably because Sam was there.

“Hello, Dean. Sam.”

“It’s cool,” Sam said in an explanatory manner. “Dean told me.”

“Ah. I see.”

“We’re still on for next Friday, right?” Dean asked.

“What does your dad say?”

Dean gave him a sideways glance. “He doesn’t say anything.”

“Dean—“

“Seriously, Cas? Come on. I’ll just tell him I’m going by myself.”

“So you’ll lie.”

“Yes, I’ll _lie_. Teenagers _lie_ to their parents, that’s what they do.”

“Teenagers that lie also get busted.”

“Only sometimes. Oh—and Jo wants you to bring some of your stuff this time.”

“Don’t change the subject.

A snicker came from the back seat and Dean glared at Sam through the rearview mirror. “What’s so funny?”

“You two bicker like a married couple.”

“Ha! See, Cas? If you want to keep us on the lowdown, you’ll have to start agreeing with me.”

“Considering that Anna, your dad, and Sam all know, I wouldn’t really qualify this as a secret anymore.”

“Well, Jo’s probably gonna pick up on it. Her spidey sense will start tingling.”

“Her spidey sense or your boisterous lips?”

“Hey. These lips are not boisterous. No boister. None whatsoever. Wanna check?”

“No particularly,” Cas said in disinterest.

“Hello? Young ears in the car,” Sam said, waving from the back.

“Sam, you have a girlfriend. You’re officially a man now,” Dean said.

“First of all, she’s not my girlfriend. Second of all, does that make you a boy or a woman?”

Cas covered his mouth, trying not to laugh, leaving a very flustered Dean unable to come up with any decent comeback.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Dad. Are we doing anything tomorrow night?”

Dean looked up from his homework surrounding him on the couch. Without having his personal archaic dictionary in his pocket, he found reading and understanding The Odyssey (the part they were reading, at least) extremely time consuming.

In the kitchen, Sam was doing dishes and John was flipping through a paper from another state. It was something he did between cases and with all his sudden free time, he’d been going through loads of out-of-state papers, searching for clues that might point to their mom’s killer.

“Just staying home, I think,” he said as he flipped to the next page. His way of telling Dean without actually saying that he wasn’t going anywhere and no one was coming here—even though he insisted that Dean wasn’t grounded. Bullshit. “Why?”

“I was thinking,” Sam said casually, “That I could have a friend over for dinner.”

“Well, I don’t see why n—“

“And Dean could bring Cas. He hasn’t been over here in a while.”

Dean could just _kiss_ Sam. Pulling the innocent, I-know-nothing, I-miss-Cas card. Because, as far as John knew, Sam didn’t know about Dean and Cas.

“Sam, I don’t know.”

“Ah, c’mon, Dad. Cas is cool. And he spends a lot of time by himself because his mom’s gone and his dad is always working.”

“Sam, I know you mean well, but there’s some things you don’t understand.”

“Like what, that Cas is Dean’s boyfriend?”

John was shocked into silence and Dean decided to watch how this scene would unfold without interrupting.

“I…you…well, yes, but…”

“Dad. You didn’t have a problem with sexuality before, so what’s your issue with Dean and Cas?”

John looked into the living room at Dean before turning his head back to Sam and saying, “Mr. Novak is too close for comfort to a person of interest.”

“What are you talking about?” Curiosity getting the better of him, Dean got up and went to stand at the opposite end of the table. “What ‘person of interest’?”

“I’m getting closer,” John said. “And if I get too close and you’re involved, it could be dangerous for you.”

“Walking down the _street_ is dangerous, Dad. And do you know how many times you’ve ‘gotten close’?”

“Don’t speak to me like that. I’m trying, Dean. I’m trying really hard—“

“How is Cas’s dad involved? Does someone work in the same place as him? Did they go to the same school? Were they in the grocery store at the same time? Do their names start with the same letter?”

John frowned at his son. “She stayed over. Twice.”

“So? He has lots of girls over. He’s not the world’s greatest person.”

“None of this has anything to do with _Cas_ ,” Sam piped in. “Dad, I get that seeing Dean with a guy might’ve freaked you out a little, but Cas is great as far as I’m concerned.”

John stared at Sam hard, eyebrows furrowing, then gave Dean a stern look. “Dinner. Friday night. Dean, you invite Cas, and Sam, you invite whoever you wanted to. “I’m going to see Bobby in Lawrence and won’t be back in time to get food ready, so that’s up to you. Have it ready by six thirty.”

Dean grinned. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Don’t thank me yet.”

 

* * *

 

The bell screeched, ten times louder than it usually was, due to Cas’ head already throbbing. He knew Dean would be waiting at his locker when he got there, but he really just wanted to be left alone in his misery today. Being sick made him sour.

“Hey, Birdstiel.”

Cas groaned. “Really?”

“That’s not how you return a greeting, silly.”

“And that’s not my name.”

“Jeez, who pissed on your pancakes today?”

“The universe. As usual.” Cas opened his locker and tried not to slam his books, knowing he’d regret it when the sound ricocheted off the walls of his skull a few dozen times.

“Well, maybe this’ll cheer you up. Sam’s amazing and you’re coming over, along with Jess, for dinner on Friday.”

“I thought we were going to Lawrence on Friday,” Cas said, trying to reason himself out of getting frustrated with Dean.

“Ash got grounded, Jo’s got a family thing, and Garth’s out of town. Adam said not to bother and that we’ll get together over Thanksgiving break.”

Cas closed his eyes and tried to relax. Having a social life—small and Dean-related as it was—was more than Cas was used to dealing with. “So instead, I’ll be invading upon an extremely awkward family dinner and praying the whole time that your father won’t shoot me.”

Dean took his shoulder off the row of lockers and stood up straight. “Fine. Stay at home and have your own family dinner. I don’t want to be late for class.” He turned and left, and Cas wanted to dig a hole in the middle of the school hallway, burrow deep down, and sleep the day away.

They didn’t exchanged a word in painting, and when it came time for lunch, Cas waited in the bathroom for the bell to ring.

Since Mr. Winchester caught him and Dean, Cas had been making a conscious effort to get to Economics; it gave him a chance to see Dean a little more. He considered skipping today, but figured he’d already seen him in painting and he needed to stop being such a baby anyway. So he forced himself to move his feet in the direction of Mr. Roman’s room. He was in his seat moments before the bell rang and avoided looking at Dean.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Today, I’ve got a stock market packet for you to work on.” He held up what could have been a novel manuscript and the class gave a collective groan. “Now don’t worry, I’m not that mean, hold your complaints. This will be a partner activity.”

Well, that was swell. _Hey, Dean, I know I was an ass five minutes ago, but want to be partners now?_ Of course, there were other people he could work with—

Dean shifted his desk so it was right beside Cas’ and got up to retrieve the packet from the front desk. “Your writing’s better,” he said, shoving it toward Cas.

The ninety minutes passed tersely, but they passed, and neither of them bit the other’s head off. Bonus points.

“Castiel,” Mr. Roman said after the dismissal bell rang, “Come see me at the end of the day.”

Suddenly, Castiel’s headache seemed a lot smaller, the majority of the pain moving to his stomach. The universe really _really_ hated him today.

He panicked his way through Latin, completely oblivious to a snarky comment Zachariah made when Mrs. Allen left the room for a minute.

And after that class, Castiel found himself walking to Mr. Roman’s room because he could never escape. Mr. Roman shut the door behind him and turned the lock.

“Castiel. I’ve noticed you’ve been coming to class more lately, but your grades are still suffering. I thought last year’s arrangement for Government worked quite well, if you’d like to consider that again.”

Of course, there was no considering involved.

_Get on your knees, Castiel. Get on your knees or I’ll let your father know just how many times you skipped class._

And if his father had any notion of how high the count actually was…well, Castiel couldn’t let that happen. So he obeyed like a good little student and Castiel had gotten on his knees.

It was blackmail, really.

This year, he’d tried to solve the problem by skipping class entirely, but then along came Dean. If he could blame him for ending up back here, maybe it would be easier—but probably not. And he couldn’t blame Dean anyway. He only had himself. He should’ve never let it happen the first time. He should’ve told someone or just avoided the class entirely. He should’ve paid attention to the bad feeling he got in his stomach, but he’d still been trying in school at the beginning of last year, so of course he couldn’t ditch class because of a bad feeling.

 _Don’t forget to count_ , he reminded himself as Mr. Roman unzipped his pants. But as soon as he took Dick’s dick in his mouth (how fitting), everything seemed _wrong_. This was disgusting—he’d always known that, but now especially. He could practically hear Dean in his head, scolding him. _But I have to._

“Castiel, you know what happened last time you did poorly.”

Dick’s voice brought him back to reality and he tried to focus more on the task at hand, but Dean refused to stop pushing into his thoughts. _Pretend it’s Dean._ But he couldn’t—Dean wouldn’t make him do this and Dean would feel _right_ , he was sure. Over the course of last year, he’d perfected his blowjob abilities—it was better than the alternative—but he couldn’t focus enough now.

Dick pushed him away in disgust, banging the back of Castiel’s head against the edge of a desk.

He pointed to the wall and Cas did as he was told and slipped out of his pants and underwear. Dick pushed him forcefully against the wall and Cas closed his eyes. _Count_. He number off the seconds in his head and tried to imagine it was just a bad dream. It would end, and he would wake up and try to continue with his nightmarish life as if the bad dream had never happened.

Tears pricked at his eyes when Dick didn’t ease him open at all first. _Don’t speak, count._ He thought about the coolness of the wall. He imagined he could hear the clock ticking in time with his seconds over Dick’s heavy breath in his ear. He pictured flecks of gold sunlight reflecting of blades of perfect green grass and tried to get lost in the imagining, but he realized it was just Dean’s eyes and then he felt guilty because he should be fighting this, but he _couldn’t_ , damn it, and then it was over.

Mr. Roman pulled out of him and Cas stayed pressed against the wall for several seconds before putting his clothes back on and going to the door.

“Check your grades tonight, Castiel,” he said as Castiel turned the doorknob.

Walking home it was cold and Cas was reminded that it was November which was a good thing because that meant it was almost December which meant the year was almost half over.

He pulled his jacket tighter around his shoulders and wondered when the first snowfall would be. He supposed he should also think about apologizing to Dean and figure out if his dad would be around (and sober) Friday. And he should try to find out what he didn’t have going on over Thanksgiving break.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he didn’t feel liking pulling it out and freezing his fingers.

When he got home and found his father’s car was still in the driveway, he sighed. But at least it was warmer inside.

“Castiel.”

Now what.

“Yes, Dad?”

“Someone’s here to see you.”

Cas frowned, clueless, and followed his dad’s voice to the kitchen. He hadn’t seen any other vehicles in the driveway, but he hadn’t really looked in the street…oh. Of course it was Dean.

“You didn’t tell me you had a school project due Monday,” his dad said.

And he was sober for once. Wow. “That’s because we don’t.”

“Yeah, we do,” Dean said quickly. “Remember the history presentation?”

“No, I don’t,” Castiel said, unwilling to let Dean show up while Cas’ dad was home without making it hard for him.

“You’re funny,” Dean said. “I just brought some notes over and I have a couple ideas about the visual aids.”

 _Kudos on word selection_ , Cas though as Dean shifted awkwardly in his seat.

“Oh, right,” Cas said, pretending to remember all of a sudden, when all he really felt like doing was sleeping. “I thought that was due on Friday.”

“Nope, the date got changed,” Dean said unnecessarily.

“We’ll be in my room, Dad.”

“Not too long, okay?”

“Nope,” Cas assured.

Once the door was shut behind them and it was just the two of them, Dean apologized immediately. “Sorry I was being a dick today.”

“You weren’t being a dick,” Cas said. “But I was acting like an ass.”

“No, you told me you felt like shit and I wasn’t being considerate at all.”

“You were excited about a dinner your dad said yes to. I should’ve been, too.”

“Damn it, Cas, stop saying stuff like that. ‘I should have.’ No, you shouldn’t have. You were having a bad day. Normal people have bad days. I should have—“

Cas moved closer to Dean. “If I can’t say I should have, neither can you.”

A smiled played at the corners of Dean’s mouth. “Fair enough.” He kissed Castiel soft and sweet, but Cas pulled quickly away. He was still disgusting. “What’s wrong?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know if I’m contagious,” Castiel lied easily.

Dean moved his lips to Cas’ neck instead, but Cas could only think about Mr. Roman’s breath and suddenly he absolutely _had_ to shower _right that very moment._

“Dean?”

“Hm?” His lips trailed lightly along  Cas’ jaw line and he desperately wanted to be able to enjoy that, but first he had to get clean.

“I need to go shower. Do you want to stay or go?”

“I can wait,” Dean said, moving to sit on the edge of Cas’ bed. “You smell weird,” he added. “You smell…not like you.”

“Like I said.” Cas grabbed some clothes at random and went into the bathroom. His fingers itched for a blade, but with Dean sitting just down the hall, he didn’t dare. Instead, he vigorously scrubbed every inch of skin for five minutes, scratching too hard in some places and making the flesh raw.

He couldn’t believe he’d messed up with Mr. Roman. He _knew_ he could’ve done better if he’d just had a bit more time to clear his head. And then it wouldn’t have had to hurt.

He poured too much shampoo into his palm and washed his hair—twice—before getting out of the shower.

There was a knock on the door. “Cas?”

“Yeah, Dad?”

“I’m going into town. I’ll be back later, ‘kay?”

Cas kept the frown out of his voice. “Okay. Wait—are we doing anything Friday?”

“I don’t think so. Why?”

“I was hoping to go over to Dean’s to work on the project.”

“Sure,” his dad said. “Overnight or no?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Alright. Have fun.”

Cas clung to his father’s voice, not slurred, a little pained, maybe a little sad, but kind. He tucked it away for a time when he’d really need it. This was a rare occasion. He dried off and go into the jeans and long-sleeved navy tee he’d grabbed. He attempted to dry his hair, but gave up as he usually did, leaving it sticking out ever which way.

Back in his room, Dean was sprawled out on his bed, flipping through an old sketchbook. Cas snatched it from his hands and kicked it under the bed.

“Hey! I was looking at that!”

“Those are awful,” Cas argued.

“Right, because there wasn’t one in there that looked exactly like Anna.”

“You could only tell because of her hair.”

Dean rolled his eyes and grabbed Cas’ wrist, pulling him down next to him. “So, Castiel. Your father has left the premises. What should we do now?”

Cas curled up against Dean’s side. “Get warm.”

Dean smiled and wrapped his arms around Cas. “Are you always cold?”

“Most of the time.”

Dean reached for a blanket and buried them beneath it, with only their heads poking out. “There,” he said, satisfied with his work and snuggling down.

All Cas wanted was to take pleasure in lying under the covers with Dean, but once against, today was not his day. He couldn’t clear earlier from his head and he couldn’t punish himself because Dean was here and he really didn’t want to tell Dean to leave anyway because they were alone and that had become a rare thing lately.

Dean slid his fingers through Cas’ damp hair. “You’re not all here.”

“What?”

“You’re distracted. What are you thinking about?”

 _How stupid I am._ “Friday.”

Dean smiled. “That’s all thanks to Sam,” he said. “Turns out, part of the problem—“ He seemed to choke on his own words.

“What was part of the problem?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

“You were lying, too.”

“You can’t call me a liar just because I called you a liar,” Cas said.

“Cas, I’m not stupid. You lie a lot. Maybe not big lies, but little ones. I just take them and try not to mind.”

Cas frowned and didn’t say anything.

“Hey.” Dean waited until Cas was looking him in the eyes. “I trust you. If you don’t want to tell me something, okay. It’s not like you’re sneaking around with somebody else behind my back.

Cas’ frown deepened. “How long have you been able to figure that out?”

“A while. Good instincts.”

“Sorry.”

“Dude, you don’t have to apologize.”

But Cas was going to prove that he could do it right, even if Mr. Roman wasn’t there to experience it. And he was going to apologize better, too. “When do you have to be home?”

“I dunno,” Dean said. “Why the sudden subject change?”

“Because. We’ve got some time to ourselves, why not make use of it?”

“I like the sound of that,” Dean said with a grin.

Cas lifted his chin to press his lips to Dean’s. He took his time working Dean up, and after a few minutes, Dean paused to say, “You can kiss like a fucking _porn_ star.”

But Cas could do much more than that.

He bit Dean’s lip and earned a low moan. Pushing the blanket away, he slid his leg over so he was straddling Dean’s hips and bent to kiss him again.

Dean reached to pull Cas’ shirt up over his head, but Cas grabbed both his wrists and, entwining their fingers, held them on the bed by Dean’s head.

“That’s not fair—“ Dean started before Cas invaded his mouth. Dean’s lips were warm and welcoming, but Cas soon moved on from that. He left Dean panting and undid the button and zipper on Dean’s jeans. “Oh, _hell_ yes,” Dean said without lifting his head.

Cas pulled the other boy’s pants and boxers off and lowered his head to take Dean in his mouth, Dean’s breath catching.

While Cas worked him, Dean wasn’t the most coherent, mostly just saying “fuck” and “Cas”, but Cas didn’t mind; that meant he was doing it right this time.

Every time Dean got close to climaxing, Cas slowed down to prolong the pleasure. “Cas, c’mon,” Dean whimpered after the second time.

“Don’t worry,” Cas said, stretching to whisper in Dean’s ear. “I promise, it’s going to feel so good.” And then he brought his head back down between Dean’s legs.

When he got close a third time, Dean’s fingers tightened in Cas’ hair, warning him, but when Dean’s hips bucked, Cas took him in all the way and swallowed.

Dean collapsed on the bed, panting, and Cas wiped the corners of his mouth. It was a salty, known taste, but Cas found it preferable to the usual. After all, this was Dean, and everything was better with Dean.

“You’re fucking crazy,” Dean breathed as Cas crawled up and pulled Dean’s shirt over his head, tossing it aside.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Cas said quietly.

“But how come I’m completely naked and you’re still fully dressed?”

“I’m obviously the dominant one in this relationship.”

Dean adjusted his head to look at Cas. “So much for worrying about being contagious.”

Cas smiled wickedly. “My headache went away fourth block.”

Dean shoved his shoulder playfully.

“That was weak,” Cas teased.

“Oh? Well, let’s see you get sucked off by an expert and do any better. Where did you _learn_ that anyway? I thought you only had one girlfriend.”

“I think I’ll keep that a secret,” Cas said.

Dean nipped at his ear and in a low voice said, “Next time you’ll be naked.”

“We’ll see about that,” Cas whispered before Dean kissed his forehead, the tip of his nose, and, finally, on the lips.

“You’re mouth is a sin, you know that?” Dean said.

“So is your everything.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

And maybe that was a bad thing to say, but Cas just wanted Deandeandean right now and didn’t care how het got it.

Still covered in a sheen of sweat, Dean rolled on top of Cas, pinning him to the bed. “You’re going to regret saying that,” he growled, sliding a hand under Cas’ shirt.

Castiel knew he’d have to stop him if he tried to take it off completely, but this was okay—this was more than okay—and Dean didn’t seem disgusted by how skinny Cas was, so that was good. As he pushed Cas’ shirt up, he left kisses on the exposed skin. He brought his lips back to Cas’ and Cas closed his eyes and imagined for a second that this was all there was.

“What’s going on with you?” Dean asked against Cas’ cheek.

Cas didn’t feel like talking, so he substituted a humming sound for words.

“You’re acting funny,” Dean said.

“How?” Cas reached up and ran his fingers over Dean’s shoulders.

“I don’t—I don’t know.” He stuttered when Cas slid his fingers down to Dean’s hips, towards Dean’s groin, and then returned them to the back of his neck. “Little things.”

“Did I do something wrong?” Cas asked, growing concerned. He propped himself up on his elbows and Dean sat back, avoiding putting too much weight on him.

“No. Not even close. You were awesome. You just…it kind of came out of nowhere. Hey don’t look like that.” He cupped his hand around Cas’ cheek. “I just feel like I’m missing something.”

He climbed off Cas and the bed and put his clothes back on, minus the shirt, then crawled back to Cas’ side. Cas didn’t say it but he thought, _It’s better that way._

“So. About this dinner,” he said. “Friday.”  
“Yes,” Dean replied with a peck on the lips. “You wanna come over right after school? Sam said Jess could.”

“Is your dad really okay with it?”

“Yeah, totally. Like I said, Sam talked some magic and stuff just sort of worked itself out.”

“So what’s on the menu?”

“That has yet to be determined. What do you think?”

“I think it would be good to have something your dad likes.”

“Well, he’s gonna be in Lawrence for a while,” Dean said, “So it’s up to us to make something. What are you like in the kitchen?” He nuzzled Ca’s neck and kissed just below his ear.

“I’m decent at sandwiches,” Cas said, “and I can make killer ramen noodles.”

“Any chance I could have a taste of either of those?”

“Just a taste?” Cas teased and nipped Dean’s ear.

“Maybe a little more.”

Cas smiled and got up to go to the kitchen. He turned back to look at Dean. “You coming?”

“Yeah, I’m getting there.”

“Well, we’re out of bread, and ramen noodles aren’t good cold, so don’t take too long.”

 

* * *

 

Dean knew something was wrong. He didn’t really have any evidence to back it up, but he knew.

After Cas had gone to the kitchen, Dean gout up and glanced around Cas’ room. He didn’t think Cas would do drugs and his behavior wasn’t that kind of weird. He pulled out a couple drawers and sifted quickly through them—clothes, art stuff, and an old photograph of tow babies, a woman, and a man. Dean recognized the man as Mr. Novak and he assumed the others were Cas, him mom, and Jimmy.

Maybe Cas was on meds and he didn’t always take them. Losing a twin could be traumatic, right?

He made his way quietly down the hall and to the bathroom. Shutting the door behind him, he opened the glass cabinet—the mirror had been fixed since Dean last saw it. Advil, Ibuprofen, razors, Nyquil, shaving cream…nothing prescription.

Okay, so what else could it be?

“I’m not bringing you food in bed,” Cas’ voice came from the kitchen.

Dean shut the cabinet, turned the light off, and left the bathroom.

“So what kind of food _does_ your dad like?” Cas asked.

Dean shrugged as Cas set a bowl of steaming noodles in front of him. “Typical dad stuff. Steak, grill-out food.”

“Okay, so we’ll make steak.”

“Have you ever made it before?” Dean questioned.

“It can’t be that hard.”

“I guess not. Should we have a practice day so we know for sure?”

“That would require me coming over before Friday,” Cas said.

“So?”

“I don’t want to push it.”

Dean heaved a sigh. “Fine. Hey, aren’t you gonna eat?”

“No, I’m not hungry.”

“I don’t care,” Dean said. “You don’t eat enough. Sit.”

Cas obliged and sat in a chair adjacent to Dean’s.

He twirled some ramen noodles around the fork and fed Cas a bite.

“If there was something…going on,” Dean said hesitantly, “you’d tell me about it, right?”

Cas gave Dean a look. “Dean, the majority of the student body despises me. I get beat up on a weekly basis. You’re gonna have to do better than ‘going on’.”

“Something besides that.”

“Outside of school, there’s nothing going on,” Cas promised, picking up a noodle with his fingers and dropping it in his mouth to make Dean happy.

“Is there something else happening outside of school?”

“Like what?” Cas asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Dean.”

“Okay, okay. Sorry.”


	11. Chapter 11

The next day at school, a new girl arrived. Bela Talbot. Cas told Dean she went freshmen year, but moved that summer. Everyone seemed to have an extreme aversion to her and when Dean asked why, Cas gave a lame its-complicated-I’ll-tell-you-later answer. He got even less than that from Gabe and Balthazar.  
Dean didn’t feel like waiting.

Lucifer’s gang had been eyeing her since she’d stepped through the double doors and—she hid it well—but Dean could tell they made her nervous. So at lunch, he asked her to sit with him. As she followed behind him, Balthazar shot him a dirty look, Gabe put his face in his hands, and Anna and Cas grew tense, leaving Dean wondering what the hell Bela had done to make even _them_ hate her.

“Bela,” he introduced, “This is Anna, Gabe, Balthazar, and Cas. “In case you don’t remember.”

“Castiel,” she said slowly. “I’ve never heard anyone call him Cas.”

She took a seat by Dean and by Cas. He tried to ignore the daggers Balthazar was shooting at him.

“So you were here freshmen year?” Dean asked.

“Yes,” she said, beginning the process of picking apart her hamburger’s bun. “I wasn’t fond of the place, but apparently my parents were, because we moved back here from California.”

“Stab many backs in California?” Gabe asked.

Dean shot him a look.

“Not many worth stabbing there,” she responded lightly.

A small girl with malicious eyes and dark hair came to sit between Anna and Bela. “Talbot,” she said. “Since you’re back, Crowley was wondering if you still plan to hold up your end of the bargain.”

“Oh, please. Why should I? That was ages ago, and he didn’t do his part.”

The girl’s eyes narrowed. “You’re a liar, Bela Talbot. You’re a liar and everyone knows it. Crowley did exactly what he said he would.”

She smiled sweetly. “Tell Crow and Luci I say hello.”

The tiny girl stood and stalked off, straight back to her table.

“What was that about?” Dean asked, feeling completely lost.

“Old times,” she said vaguely. “It really doesn’t matter.”  
Next block, Dean had Algebra II, which mainly consisted of Uriel giving him death glares. Before Dean got out the door after the bell rang, Uriel cornered him briefly and said, “If you think you’re going to get in that bitch’s pants, you’re an idiot. Or is little Castiel trying to befriend everyone again?

Before Dean could snap back at him, the dick bag was gone. Why did Cas get brought into everything?

 

* * *

 

She’d been eyeing him since class started. He had no idea why—she was homeschooled for the most part and uninvolved in the complicated hate-web. So why was she staring?

“That looks very nice, Tessa,” Mrs. Milton said from behind her.

“Thanks. I can’t quite get the legs right, though.”

“Hmm…maybe if—“

“Mrs. Milton, I need your help!” another student said from across the room.

“Castiel, could you come here and help Tessa?” Mrs. Milton asked.

He gripped his red colored pencil a little too tight before getting up to go to Tessa so Mrs. Milton could assist the other student.

“What do you need?” he asked her, even though he’d already heard.

“I can’t get the feet right.”

In front of her, she had a dead, stuffed crow. “It’s my father’s,” she explained. “I think he was trying to be funny when he got it. Funeral home, crow. But I thought it would be cool to draw.”

“Birds are nice,” Castiel agreed. “You’re drawing in higher contrast than the natural light,” he said. “if you continue that contrast, then there are some spots where you wouldn’t be able to distinguish the feet from the branch.”

“Oh…I see what you mean. That helps. Thanks.” Castiel turned to leave, but Tessa asked, “What’re you drawing?”

“A feather.”

“Just a feather? That’s too simple. What else?”

Cas sighed quietly. “A red feather. On a piece of a broken mirror, so there’s the reflection. I’m trying to work it so the reflection has the sky behind the feather.”

“That sounds cool,” she said. “Not many people would think of that. Not from around here, at least.”

Cas gave her an empty smile and hoped she’d let him leave, but no such luck.

“Dean inviting Bela to sit with you might’ve caused some trouble,” she said, low.

Cas frowned. She didn’t eat at school—how had she known that?

“A lot of people aren’t happy about it, and you were there, so they’ll probably want to take it out on you.”

“I know,” he said simply.

“You should go straight home.”

“I always go straight home…”

“I mean before dismissal.”

Cas canted his head to the side. “Why?”

She smiled sadly at him. “You’re a bird, Castiel. Truly. You shouldn’t let anyone keep you in a cage.”

She bent her head back over her work and didn’t say anything more. What she said ate at Cas all through last block, but once again, he ignored his gut.

 

* * *

 

“So, you think you’re going to get cozy with Bela now that she’s back?”

One of Lucifer’s followers had him cornered—he’d forgotten the boy’s name, not that it mattered—and this time, there was a knife.

Castiel got all the luck.

“I guess sit makes sense—two traitors.”

Cas didn’t bother denying anything. There was no point. And it probably did make sense from their perspective.

“You know, he never forgave you. Bela completely ripped him off and then to have you stab him in the back like that…that was just low.”

“I can’t take it back,” Cas said, because the boy seemed to be waiting for him to say something.

“You’re right. You can’t. And it’s about time you got some payback.”

The lean boy dove at him with the knife and Cas narrowly avoided a stab to the gut. He’d be lucky to make it out of high school alive at this rate.  
The kid charged him again and Cas turned and sidestepped, but he felt the cool blade cut across his back and thought being attacked with a knife should phase him, but no, somehow this felt like just another day in the life of Castiel Novak.

“ _Hey_!”

How had he not seen that coming? Dean was sprinting over, no doubt he’d seen the knife, and all Cas could think was, _He doesn’t have a weapon._

“Back off, Winchester,” the boy warned.

“Why? Afraid of someone bigger than you?”

The logical part of Cas’ brain kicked in just then, saying, _Dean can’t be more than two inches taller._

“You really think it’ll be fair?” the black haired kid asked.  
Dean didn’t need any more encouragement. He raised an arm and before the boy could move to defend himself, Dean’s fist smashed into his jaw. He managed to hold on to the knife and tried to strike Dean, but Dean grabbed his arm and bent it at an unnatural angle. The boy dropped the knife and opened his mouth to scream, but Dean slammed him against the brick wall, knocking the wind out of him.

“If you so much as _squeal_ , I will knock your teeth out,” Dean threatened. “If you _ever_ touch him again, I will fucking kill you, I swear to God.”

As far as Cas could tell, Dean wasn’t kidding in the slightest.

Dean shoved him into the wall against. “Do you understand?”

Lucifer’s footman nodded shakily and Dean pushed him away and he immediately took off running. Dean tossed the knife in a dumpster and took Cas by the shoulders.

“Did he get you?”

“Um…barely,” Cas said, figuring Dean would know if he was lying.

“Where? Is it deep?”

Cas turned his back to Dean.

“ _Shit_ ,” Dean snapped.

“It’s not that bad—“

“Somebody just came after you with a _knife_ , Cas—“

“After you invited Bela Talbot to lunch! You could’ve at least told me you were going to do that so I could skip out—“

“Are you kidding? That’s what this was about? That was all me!”

“Don’t you get it? It doesn’t matter! Everything is my fault, in case you haven’t caught on.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Dean said.

“Yeah, well, despite the high test scores, this is generally a pretty stupid place.”

Dean sighed. “I’m sorry if this is my fault, okay? Can I at least have a closer look at your back?”

“It’s fine—“

Dean squeezed his shoulders. “Stop. Saying that.”

Cas frowned, but kept quiet.

“Enough ‘it’s fine’, ‘I’m okay’, ‘it’s nothing’. Someone just attacked you, Cas. Like, _attacked you_.”

“I know.”

Dean threw his hands in the air. “I give up. Turn around.”

Cas obeyed and Dean inspected the cut through the slice in Cas’ shirt. “Here,” he said, handing Cas his jacket. “Don’t worry about getting blood on it.”

“I’m fi—“

“I know ‘you’re fine’, but I want my car to ‘be fine’, too.”

“I can walk—“

Dean grabbed the navy jacket from Cas and manhandled him into it. “Please, shut up.”

In the parking lot, not everyone was gone yet. Cas saw Lucifer standing beside his red Camaro with Lilith hanging on his arm. He looked up in time to see Cas and Dean walking to the Impala and from a few cars down said, “Fuck you, Castiel. Fuck. You.”

Dean lifted his arm and gave Lucifer the middle finger before getting into the car.

 

“I don’t need stitches,” Cas insisted as they pulled into his driveway.

“Well, you need something,” Dean said.

“Yeah. A boyfriend who will listen when I say, ‘I’ll tell you later’.”

A hint of a smile danced around the edges of Dean’s mouth.

“ _What_?” Cas snapped, mildly irritated that Dean found something amusing in this situation.

“That’s the first time you’ve called me your boyfriend.”

“Well, you’re not my girlfriend.”

Dean sighed and pursed his lips. “Fine. No stitches. But don’t do anything strenuous to make it bleed again.”

“As long as your dad’s home tomorrow night, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

“And what about tomorrow after school?”

“I guess we should hope that Sam decides to bring Jess home right away,” Cas said.

“Or we hope not and just be very careful with you.”

Cas placed a chaste kiss on Dean’s lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Could I come in?” Dean asked. “Until Sam’s done at Jess’s?”

“My dad’s home,” Cas said, hand on the open car door.

“ _Pleeeeease_.” Dean gave his best puppy face.

“Leave the puppy eyes to your brother,” Cas said teasingly.

“Thirty minutes?” Dean tried to bargain.

Cas raised an eyebrow.

“Twenty?”

Cas didn’t budge.

“Fifteen?” Dean leaned a little closer. “Ten?” Cas didn’t move. “Seven?” Dean stole a kiss and broke into a smile.

“Very funny,” he said against Dean’s lips, but he let him indulge.

Dean slipped his tongue into Cas’ mouth and snuck his hand under Cas’ shirt. Cas shifted his position and pulled the door closed again.

Dean kissed his way down Cas’ neck and pulled his shirt collar down to suck a mark onto Cas’ collarbone. Cas let his head fall back and Dean moved back up to Cas’ mouth, biting the boy’s lip playfully.

“I really need to get inside,” Cas said several minutes later.

Dean kept kissing his neck, breath tickling Cas’ skin when he said, “Are you sure?”

Cas moaned and twisted reluctantly away. “Yes, I’m sure. And if you don’t get home, your dad might get suspicious.”

“Then I’ll see your ass tomorrow,” Dean said.

“You wish.”

Dean grinned as Cas leaned in for one last kiss that may or may not have lasted the better half of a minute.

“Don’t forget to marinate the steaks,” Cas said before shutting the car door.

 

* * *

 

A few minutes after Dean got home, AC/DC started blaring from his pocket and he pulled his phone out to see who was calling.

“Hey, Jo!”

“Hi, Dean!”

“Why’d you call?” he asked, flopping onto his bed.

“A couple of reasons. One, we need to finalize when you’re coming over, and two, Garth has a girlfriend!”

“What? No way. When did that happen?”

“Just today,” Jo said with a smile in her voice.

“Who is it? Do I know her?”

“She’s the new girl that showed up a couple days before you left. Charlie Bradbury.”

“The fiery little redhead?” There seemed to be a lot of those in his life. Anna, Amy from Doctor Who, and now Garth’s girlfriend.

“Yup.”

“With all the geek shirts?”

“Dean.”

“I’m just kidding. So did he grow some balls and ask her or what?”

“Well, she’s a little bit out of place, mostly because she’s insanely smart, and so at lunch today, Garth asked her to come sit with us and apparently after the bell rang and we all left, he asked her out!”

“Since when did he even like her?”

“We don’t know. But apparently they have World History together, so I guess it might not be _totally_ out of the blue. So, yeah. How’s life in Nebraska?”

“Ha. Nebraska. Well, it’s not as boring as we thought.”

“What’s going on?” she asked, picking up on the undertone in Dean’s voice.

“You know how Cas is really…quiet?”

“Yeah.”  
“Well, he’s really bad at socializing because basically everyone here hates him because of something that happened before he started high school and it doesn’t even pertain to him—“

“What was the something?” she asked.

“Shit, I don’t know if I can even remember it all right.”

“Try.” He could almost see her leaning in closer and crossing her legs.  
And so he gave Jo the convoluted back story to why Nebraska was not, in fact, a simple, boring place, and all about how Cas continuously paid for breathing too many times in one hour, or for a bitch fight breaking out, or if Dean invited the wrong fucking person to sit at their table at lunch.

“But you don’t know what he did?” Jo asked after he finished.

“What do you mean?”

“Nobody hates someone that much without an actual reason.”

“Cas didn’t do anything except try to be friends with everyone. And he’ snot the bad guy in this situation—“

“I never said he was, Dean, but everyone makes mistakes and maybe a couple years ago—“

“No.”

“Okay, fine. He’s okay, right?”

“Yeah, the kid just got his back. But if I hadn’t shown up—“

“Calm your ego.”

“Shut up. I’m just saying, that kid might’ve killed him.”

“I don’t think so,” Jo said. “If it’s—who did you say?—Lucifer and Zachariah calling the shots and they wanted him dead, I’m pretty sure they would’ve done it themselves. Or at least been there to watch.”

Dean frowned. “I guess.”

“Do you want me to come up there?” she asked.

“Nah, you don’t need to. It felt good just to talk to somebody else about it.”

“Hey—idea. What if over break we came there instead of you coming here?”

“You want to subject yourself to this insanity?”

“It’s not like we’ll have to meet anyone who isn’t one of your friends.”

“I guess if you want,” Dean said. “I could ask my dad if you could stay here—I don’t think he’ll be home anyway.”

“Great. I’ll check with the guys. Oh—and do you mind if Charlie comes?”

“Fine by me,” Dean said. “That still doesn’t even out the girl-to-guy ratio.”

“Shut up.”

“Fine. Find a hotel.”

“Fine, I won’t come.

“Fine.”

“So, we’ll probably head out Friday.”

“Awesome. Call me if plans change.”

“I will.”

“Bye.”

Dean smiled to himself. He couldn’t wait till Thanksgiving break.

“ _Shit_!” He jumped out of bed and ran downstairs to start marinating the steaks before he had to go back into town to get Sam.

 

* * *

 

“Do you want to catch a movie tonight?” Gabe asked at lunch, popping a Tootsie Roll into his mouth.

“Sure,” Anna said.

“I don’t have anything else,” Balthazar said in his usual half-interested tone.

“I’ve got a family dinner thing,” Dean said.

“You know Thanksgiving’s next week, right?” Balthazar mocked before taking a swig of said ‘water’.

“Haha. My dad’s not gonna be home for Thanksgiving. But you guys are all invited next weekend. Jo, Garth, Adam, and Ash are all coming up. Oh, and probably another girl, too—Charlie. Garth has a girlfriend now.”

“Good,” Anna said. “It’ll be nice to have some female company.”

“Will your dad be around then?” Balthazar asked.

“No, he picked up a case and he’s leaving this Sunday.”

“Thank God. My parents are taking break off and I was worried I’d have to hide the alcohol and actually partake in family activities.”

Anna rolled her eyes. “How tragic.”

“What about you, bird boy?” Gabe asked. “Are you up for a movie?”

“Um, I’ve got a still life and a painting project due before break and I’m gonna have to work on them at home—they’re not anywhere near finished.”

“Ah, Castiel,” Gabe said with a sigh. “Faithful artist…student, whatever.”

Anna eyed him warily and as the lunch bell rang, she whispered, “Liar,” in his ear before winking at him and hurrying to class.

“What was that about?” Dean asked.

“Anna’s spidey senses were tingling,” Cas said dryly.

Dean laughed. “You’re learning.”

Cas didn’t bother asking what that was supposed to mean.

“Hey, how’s your back?”

“Fine. Speaking of, I’m not going to Economics today.”

“What? Why?”

“I just don’t want to put up with Lucifer. I want today to be a…good day.” Plus, he didn’t want to chance an afterschool meeting with Mr. Roman again.

Dean gave him a one-sided smile. “Fair enough. But you’re going on Tuesday.”

“Yeah, fine,” Cas said.

“I’ll see you after school. Oh—I have to make up a PE class after. Just…wait in the car. It’ll only take like ten minutes.”

“You haven’t missed any school recently,” Cas said, bewildered.

“Nah, this is from a while ago. Mrs. Braeden’s been nagging me about it. He held his keys up for Cas to see. “Can I trust you with my baby?”

Cas gave Dean a look that all but flat out said, _You’re ridiculous._ “I’m not going to drive off.”

“’Kay.” He placed the keys firmly in Cas’ hand. “And, please, try not to get beat up before I get there.”

“I’ll do my best,” Cas said solemnly.

 

Cas may or may not have gone directly to the Impala after Dean gave him the keys. Missing one Latin class wouldn’t kill him. He dumped his book bag in the front and crawled into the backseat to sleep for a couple hours—he liked the Impala better than his bed; it smelled more like Dean.

Cas reached for his bag in the front seat and pulled out Dean’s jacket from the day before. He’d cleaned it up, but didn’t want to give it back just yet. He covered his top half with it and snuggled into it—November wasn’t exactly warm. It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep like that.

 

Cas startled awake at the sound of a door being opened, but he remembered he was in the Impala and it was just Dean.

Dean glanced over his shoulder. “Have a nice nap?”

“Umm…yeah.”

Dean started the car before turning again. “You gonna make Sam and Jess sit separately, or…?”

“Oh—no, sorry.” Cas got out of the back and came to sit in the passenger seat, moving his bag to the floor. He’d left Dean’s jacket in the back and reached around to grab it. “Here,” he offered. “I cleaned it. No blood.”

Dean titled his head, considering. “You keep it for a while.”

Cas didn’t argue.

They drove the short distance to the middle school and Dean parked the car.

“Should Sam and Jess be here?” Cas asked.

“Jess had a test to make up,” Dean said. “And Sam was gonna wait for her. She won’t be too long now. Maybe another fifteen minutes.”

“Oh.”

Dean smiled like something was funny.

“What?— _Oh_.” Realization dawned on Cas.

Dean laughed and leaned over to kiss him. “You’re adorable,” he said.

“Shut up.”

“Bossy,” Dean noted. He entwined his fingers in Cas’ hair and they somehow managed to arrange themselves so Dean was sitting in the passenger seat and Cas was in his lap, straddling his hips.

“You know, we can ditch the dinner,” Dean suggested as Cas trailed down to his collarbone.

“Tempting,” Cas said as he rocked slowly forwards. Dean moved his hands to Cas’ hips. “But we’re cooking—what would they eat?”

Dean kissed up to Cas’ temple. “I don’t know, but I could eat _you_.”

Cas broke into a laugh and dropped his head to Dean’s shoulder.

“What? Ugh, that was supposed to be sexy—“

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Cas apologized. “Here.” He picked up at Dean’s jaw line, but when he got to Dean’s mouth, he lost it again.

“Dude, did you take happy pills or something?” Dean questioned.

“I’m sorry—I don’t know—“ He couldn’t stop laughing. What was wrong with him? It wasn’t that funny.  
“I could’ve been a lot more specific,” Dean said. “Like, ‘I don’t know what they’re having, but I’m going to throw you in the microwave and eat your easy mac ass’ or ‘I’ll put my turkey in your oven’ or—“

Cas laughed even harder and Dean started laughing, too. They tried to keep going several times, but it got to the point that they couldn’t distinguish kissing from laughing.

They were interrupted when Dean’s phone rang and he showed Cas the text and if they weren’t both in one seat in a car, they would’ve toppled over.

 

> _Jess is done so if youre making out stop_

“C’mon,” Dean managed. “I’ve gotta get back—in the driver’s seat.”

“How’d you even get under me?”

“Let’s see…if you…you could crawl onto the dashboard…”

They started laughing uncontrollably again and should’ve realized all hope was lost then, but they kept trying to get into their original seats and Cas ended up on the floor while Dean half-crawled-half-wiggled to the driver’s side, but it was all for nothing because Sam was standing outside the car with his palm plastered to his forehead and Jess beside him. Through his laughter, Dean gestured for them to get in while Cas climbed back into his seat.

“The food tonight better be flawless,” Sam said. “Jeez, Dean.”

“I didn’t make out with myself!” he said defensively.  
Cas covered his mouth in a suppression attempt, but it failed miserably when Sam shot back, “Yeah, but twenty bucks says it was your idea.” Dean, of course, lost it all over again, too, and it was several minutes before he could actually start driving.

“Oh, Jess—on a serious note, don’t tell anyone Cas was over tonight. As far as the world knows, it’s just you, me, Sam, and our dad.”

“Sam told me,” she said.

“Good. You two’ll be on your own until the food’s done, and when Dad gets back, make sure you’re not upstairs.”

“Got it,” Sam said. “And Dean? Since Dad’s gonna be gone on Thursday, I was wondering if I could go to Jess’s for Thanksgiving.”

Dean nodded slowly. “Yeah…that should work.” He turned to Cas. “Are you doing anything Thursday?”

“No. My dad’s leaving for Idaho on Tuesday.”

“What does he even do?” Dean questioned.

Cas shrugged. “I’ve never bothered asking.”

“Well. If you want to come over, we can have our own Thanksgiving.”

“Sure. But…what would we eat?”

Dean burst into laughter and Cas grinned. He was getting the hang of humor.

When they arrived at the Winchester’s house, Sam and Jess made some popcorn to take upstairs with them and Cas laid his Latin stuff out on the table.

“Dude, what are you doing?” Dean asked from where he was leaning against the kitchen counter.

“I slept through Latin. While the food’s cooking I thought—“

“Whoa whoa whoa. There are other things we’ll be doing while the food is cooking.”

“ _Dean_!” Sam snapped from in front of the microwave. Jess giggled.

“Relax, Sammy,” Dean said.

The younger Winchester shook his head and poured the finished popcorn into a bowl, then he and Jess disappeared upstairs.

“So,” Dean said. He picked up Cas’ Latin and put it back in his book bag. “Now that the young ones are upstairs—“

“We’ll start on supper,” Cas finished for him.

Dean sighed. “You’d be very good at strip tease.”

Cas opened the fridge, searching for the steaks. “Would I?”

 

* * *

 

So Cas did a lot of the food preparation and Dean did a lot of mildly distracting things. Cas started boiling a pot of water for the pasta salad and Dean wrapped his arms around his waist, hugging him from behind. Cas got a little tense and Dean added it to his list of Cas things. He didn’t know when he’d started keeping a mental list, but he had.

“You don’t like people coming up from behind you,” he noted.

“Sorry. Bad experiences.”

“Nobody here’s gonna do anything to you. Relax. You’re way tense.”

Cas didn’t exactly relax, but he did get a little less tense. Dean kissed the back of the base of Cas’ neck and moved to where his shoulder and neck met. He gave a playful bite and Cas spun out from between Dean and the counter. “We have to finish this,” Cas said, pulling a spoon from a drawer.

“Dean frowned. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I just…I don’t want to mess the food up.”

“Okay,” Dean said. “I’ll be serious.” But in his head, he added another tally. _Times Cas has lied._

 

Two hours later, the pasta salad was being chilled in the fridge, the steaks were on low heat, a massive bowl of lettuce was in the fridge, a pot of boiled potatoes and carrots were covered on the stove, and Cas was just putting a bowl of fruit salad in the fridge.

“We have three salads,” he said, a comically serious expression on his face.

“One’s pasta, one’s fruit, and one’s just lettuce. It’s fine,” Dean promised.

Cas didn’t seem to hear him. “Pasta and potatoes are both carbs—is that okay?”

“Cas, chill.”

“The gravy’s not done yet!”

Dean grabbed Cas’ hands and made him look at him.

“I have to set the table.”

“Cas. Go sit on the couch. Jess and Sam will handle the gravy and setting the table.”

Cas’ eyes widened. “Is your dad allergic to anything?”

Dean took his face in his hands. “I would’ve told you. Now go sit down.” He turned Cas toward the living room and gave him a little push.

“Sam!” Dean called up the stairs. “Dad’s gonna be home in less than half an hour. Why don’t you and Jess come down and heat up some gravy and set the table.”

“Coming!” Sam yelled back.

Dean went into the living room and sat on the sofa beside Cas. “Turn around,” he said with a gesture.

“How much did he hate me after he caught us?” Cas asked.

“He doesn’t hate you. He was surprised. Now turn.” He placed his hands on Cas’ shoulders and helped him move so he was cross-legged with his back to Dean. Dean’s own back was against the arm of the couch.

“You seriously need to relax.” He started massaging Cas’ shoulders and at first Cas’ muscles stayed rigid and mostly unresponsive, but after a couple minutes, he loosened up.

“That feels good,” he admitted.

“That’s the idea.”

“What time is it?”

“We’ve got a few minutes.”

“Beef gravy or chicken gravy?” Sam asked from in the kitchen.

“Pick one,” Dean said. Then to Cas, “I’m not taking Jess home till eleven, so we’ll have a couple hours after dinner.”

“Can we spend it like this?” Cas asked.

Dean smiled. “If my hands would work that long.”

He heard Sam and Jess laughing in the kitchen and everything seemed very much alright.

“You know, if my dad doesn’t love you after tonight, he’s crazy.”

“All I did was make food,” Cas said. “And you did half of it.”

“Half? I stirred when you said stir, handed you seasoning, and said ‘ah’ when you said ‘taste this’.”

Cas stuck to his previous statement. “Half.”

Dean shook his head. “C’mere.” He pulled Cas back gently until that mess of hair was pressed against his chest and slipped his arms around Cas’ torso.  
Sam and Jess came into the living room and they managed to squeeze in side-by-side on the recliner.

“The table’s set and gravy ready,” Sam affirmed.

“What time is it?” Dean asked.

“Around six-fifteen.”

“He better hurry up.”

“So what’s on the menu?” Jess asked. “Sam said you two had to go to the store last night.

Dean gave Cas a friendly poke. “Well, this guy went all Master Chef on me and wanted to have something from each food group and we had to get some weird tropical fruits—“

Cas rolled his eyes. “Mango and passion fruit aren’t weird. And you’re the one who said no to fruit fluff.”

“If you ate lunch at school, you would understand my aversion. Bad experiences.”

“Passion fruit is good,” Jess said. “My mom gets it a lot.”

“See?” Cas said. And to Jess, “Thank you.”

“Okay, so that’s one person who think sit’s not weird. Besides you.”

“Dean,” Sam said. “I never said it was weird. You were the only one.”

“And apparently I’m the only normal person here.”

Just then, they heard the front door opening. The four of them scrambled up and went to stand in the kitchen moments before John did.

“Smells good,” he said. “You must be Jessica.” He shook her hand and she flashed him a smile.

“Do you prefer John or Mr. Winchester?” she asked.

“John, please.” He moved on to Cas, “Hello, Castiel,” and shook his hand, too.

“Mr. Winchester.”

And then Dean’s dad actually _smiled_. “You can call me John, too. The circumstances when we last met were…not ideal.” He shot Dean a fleeting look. “I apologize.”

_No, Dad. I didn’t tell him that you suspected one of his dad’s fuck buddies was involved in Mom’s murder._

“So,” John said. “What’s for dinner?”

“Consider it an early Thanksgiving,” Dean said. “Cas made a bunch of stuff—went all out.”

“I helped,” Cas said quickly. “It was a joint effort.”

“He’s modest,” Dean said. “He did most of it.”

“Jess and I slaved over the gravy,” Sam piped in.

“Hours and hours,” Jess added. “And that was just opening the can.”

After they all had food on their plates and were sat down at the table, Dean started to get a little worried, seeing everything that could go wrong. Maybe Cas’ paranoia was wearing off on him.

“So, Dad,” Dean said. “Since you’re gonna be gone, I was thinking Jo, Garth, Adam, and Ash could come here on Friday.”

John raised his eyes. “That’s quite a drive.”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “It was Jo’s idea. Originally, I was just gonna go down there.”

“And where would they stay?”

“Here.”

John paused mid-chew. “Hm.”

“The living room’s plenty big,” Dean supplied.

“And Sam would be…”

“Actually,” Sam spoke up, “I was gonna go to Jess’s Thanksgiving.”

“Which is on Thursday.”

“My family was actually going to leave on Thursday. We’re going to my aunt’s—she lives like four hours west of here,” Jess said lightly. Dean shot Sam a look; his little brother had failed to mention this part.

John nodded slowly, chewing even slower. “And how long would you be there for?” he asked calmly.

“Just a couple days,” Sam said.

“Well.” John took a long sip of water. “As long as her parents are going.”

“Duh,” Sam said before catching himself. “I mean—of course they are.”

“I cleared it with them ahead of time,” Jess said. “And they said as long as you approved, it was okay.”

“Then, I guess I approve.” John smiled, not so tensely. That could’ve been bad.

Dean shot his brother another look. _Thanks for telling me._ “So, Dad. What about the Lawrence gang?”

“If the house is empty…just them?”

“Yeah.” Dean moved his leg, brushing it against Cas’. “Just them.”

“Alright, then. So we all have Thanksgiving plans. What about you, Castiel? This steak is excellent, by the way.”

Cas smiled. “Dean marinated it. I just threw it in a pan.”

“You told me what to put it in, though,” Dean said.

“Either way, it’s delicious. Perfectly done. Now tell me—what are your plans over break.”

“Um.” Cas took a sip of water before lying. Which, admittedly, Dean had pushed him into. “I’ll just hang around my house, probably. My dad’s on a business trip and it’s just me and him, so. I might marathon some Classic Who.”

John’s brow furrowed. “Classic what?”

One of those rare, special smiles touched Cas’ lips. “Doctor Who. It’s, um, it’s a TV show. It started in the sixties and then BBC picked it up a few years ago. The Old Who was kind of dubbed Classic Who.”

“I see.” He obviously did not. “Well…if you’re not doing anything—or if you get bored with Classic Who, then you can come over here.”

Dean perked up immediately. “Really?”

John nodded. “I reacted badly. It’s fine if Cas comes over.”

Dean got the feeling that Bobby might’ve plated a part in this, but he didn’t ask. “Awesome.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd as of this moment, but I just want to get it up for anyone to read who's feeling impatient. It was almost twice as long, but then I realized I didn't want to cut up the Thanksgiving part, so I've cut it short. Which means the next part will be longer. (:

So dinner went well. And after they finished, John went into town to pick up something for dessert, and Sam and Jess volunteered to go with. Dean was pretty sure it was Sam’s way of apologizing for not giving him a heads up on the four-hours-away-multiple-night part of his Thanksgiving plans.

“Should we have made dessert, too?” Cas asked as he placed two plates in the sink.

“Cas, no. The food was perfect. It’s done now, okay?” Dean stacked three more plates on top of his two.

Cas collected the silverware while Dean got the glasses. “Was he serious about it being okay for me to come over?”

Dean shrugged. “You were going to anyway.”

“Yeah, but him being good with it…means something.”

Dean kissed Cas on the cheek. “I know. C’mere.”

With all the dishes in the sink, he led Cas by the hand into the living room and pulled him down onto the couch.

“They just went into town—”

“Dude, they’ll be _at least_ twenty minutes.”

Dean brought Cas’ lips to his and rubbed circles on his back, avoiding the place where he knew the cut to be.

“So.” Dean kissed the tip of Cas’ nose and then his chin. “Thursday’s going to be fun.” His hands roamed a little lower, pausing at the small of Cas’ back.

Cas bit Dean’s neck, not hard enough to leave a mark, but hard enough to elicit a throaty sound from Dean. “It could be.”

Dean’s hands went lower, squeezing Cas’ ass through his jeans.

Cas smile against Dean’s mouth. “Dean, we’re on your couch.”

“So?”

“So, other people sit here.”

Dean groaned. “Fine.” He didn’t stop, though. Instead, he sat up, still lip-locked with Cas, and wrapped his arms firmly around the other boy’s skinny frame. Cas caught on, and when Dean stood up, Cas hooked his legs around him.

“You’re gonna fall over,” Cas said with a smile, but making no effort to get down or let go.

“You’re against the couch, we won’t hear them get back if we go upstairs, so what do you propose, then?” Dean traced the inside of Cas’ lower lip with his tongue before letting him answer.

“It’s your house.” He adjusted his weight, grinding against Dean, and _fuck_.

“How do you feel about the floor?”

Cas kissed him so hard he thought his lips might bruise and he didn’t wait for a reply before lowering them both down.

“If we had more time—” Cas said against Dean’s mouth.

“Save it for Thursday, right,” Dean said as Cas rocked his hips perfectly. “ _Fuck_ ,” he muttered.

“I’m saving it,” Cas whispered, grinding against Dean.

Dean rolled over so he was on top. “You don’t get to do that without a little payback.”

“Do what?” Cas asked innocently.

Dean rolled his hips forward, the friction making Cas shudder as Dean jammed his tongue into Cas’ mouth, muffling a pornographic moan from the other boy. He rolled his hips again and felt fingers dig into his back through his shirt.

Maybe Dean was being a little merciless…but Cas wasn’t protesting. If anything, the sounds he was making were encouraging.

“We have time,” he breathed. “You can go fast.”

When Cas’ self-restraint was failing, Dean knew he was doing good. This also meant he was barely holding back himself. He grinded their crotches together harder and Cas moaned louder. Two more times and Cas’ hips bucked involuntarily and Dean thought they might just dry hump until they both came, because suddenly he was rubbing against Cas so forcefully it almost hurt and they were both so fucking _hard_ —

And then they heard a car in the driveway.

“ _Shit_ ,” Dean groaned as he forced himself to get off Cas. He ran to the kitchen to look out the window and…wait. That wasn’t his dad’s car. The minivan backed out onto the road and took off in the opposite direction.

Dean ran back to the living room where Cas was standing and shoved him against a wall. “Somebody just got turned around,” he said, his mouth on Cas’ neck as his hips jerked forward.

“Good.” Cas reached his hand down past the waistband of Dean’s jeans and rubbed his through his boxers. They were being sloppy and messy, but neither cared and Dean slammed into Cas’ hand again and again and Cascascas and then he heard another fucking car.

“Are you _shitting_ me?”

“Get your coat on,” Cas said, removing his hand. “My dad wants me home early. You’re going to drop me off.”

“You’re brilliant.”

They were out the door just as Sam, John, and Jess were getting out of the vehicle. Thank God for darkness.

“Where are you two going?” John asked. “Dessert’s here.”

“Cas’s dad wants him home earlier,” Dean lied, crossing his fingers that he hadn’t mentioned Mr. Novak was gone. “I’m taking him home, then coming back.”

“Well,” John said, “Thanks for coming, Castiel.” He stuck his arm out to shake Cas’ hand (not the one that had just been down Dean’s pants, thank God).

“It was fun,” Cas said. “I’m glad you enjoyed the food.”

“We’ll save you a piece!” Sam said as Dean and Cas got into the Impala, which probably meant pie. Tonight was a good night.

After about two minutes of driving, Dean pulled over and turned off the car. “Backseat,” he said.

Cas clambered back first and Dean followed and they didn’t waste any time. Cas’ ‘other people sit here’ comment briefly crossed Dean’s mind, but he didn’t mention it and then it was gone.

He removed Cas’ pants in what was probably record-breaking speed and then squirmed out of his own.

He gasped when Cas grabbed him and thrust against his hand. Cas moved quickly and Dean pressed a hand to the window as ecstasy washed over him and he came in Cas’ hand. “Your turn,” he breathed, grabbing his jacket from earlier and wiping himself and Cas clean with it. Baby’s upholstery would not get ruined because he and his boyfriend were feeling extremely horny.

Dean had gotten himself off enough times, he was pretty sure he could do it for Cas. The other boy’s hips bucked and Dean slid his hand down around Cas’ dick, moving how he hoped was just right. Cas slid his hand behind Dean’s neck and pulled his head down. The kiss was hungry and messy and damn fucking _hot_. Cas threw his head back and Dean bit his neck when he came.

Cas’ whole body went limp and Dean was barely holding himself up.

“How am I supposed to drive you home now, damn it.” His voice was shaky and breathy and _damn_ if his boyfriend didn’t look sexy covered in sweat and moonlight.

Cas laughed breathlessly and Dean let his head fall to Cas’ shoulder. He left a kiss by Dean’s ear. “Just wait till Thursday.” He lowered his voice. “I’m going to fuck you until you _scream_.”

Dean let out a low moan. “You can’t say stuff like that—you’re gonna get me hard again.”

Cas’ hand moved down to Dean’s naked ass and squeezed. “I like you hard,” he breathed.

And maybe after that there was some tongue action for the better part of five minutes before Dean finished taking Cas home.

 

* * *

 

Cas woke up Saturday morning at 3:52am and realized Thanksgiving break could be a problem. He wouldn’t be able to make it through the whole time with a shirt on and he could _not_ let Dean see his arms. He got out of bed to go to the bathroom and flipped the light switch up. After shuffling a few things around in the mirror cabinet, he found a nearly unused tube of Neosporin. Five days…if it was dark…maybe he could get the scars healed enough…He smeared a generous amount on the undersides of his forearms and replaced the medicine. He stared at the shiny gel covering his white skin. Dean finding out was undoubtedly inevitable. _But not yet_ , Castiel thought. He couldn’t afford to lose Dean yet.

 

By Monday morning, Castiel’s arms were looking better. Not perfect, not by any means, but less noticeable. He was fairly certain by Thursday he would be okay.

P.E., however, was not so okay. Floor hockey was never okay. He was on Ruby Radcliff and Crowley’s team, and Lilith was on the other. Mrs. Braeden had Cas playing forward, God knows why, and, naturally, so was Lilith.

“So, Castiel. Are you hanging out with Dean again today? Or are you going to spend some quality time with that _bitch_?” Lilith snarled, guarding him.

Castiel didn’t answer.

“She asked you a question, quim,” Crowley said from where he was positioned as a defender.

“I’m not friends with Bela,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Oh?” The puck came flying across the floor and Lilith hit it to someone closer to the goal. “What do two backstabbers call each other?”

Cas tightened his grip on the hockey stick. “We try not to talk.”

“If you don’t talk, do you just fuck, then?” she asked.

_Cas walked through the set of double doors, the parking lot almost completely deserted. He’d had to stay late, making up a test he’d missed when he’d been sick, and sports practices had ended a good twenty minutes ago. He cut across the parking lot and passed by one of the few remaining vehicles. A movement in the backseat caught his eye and he turned his head to get a better look. Bela Talbot and a girl he’d seen hanging around the high school recently. He was pretty sure she was an upcoming freshman. Bela had one hand stuck down the younger girl’s pants and the other tangled in the girl’s blonde hair. The blonde saw him watching and jerked herself upright, leading to Bela turning her head to see what she’d seen._

The puck came sliding back toward them at light speed and before Lilith could even lift her stick, Cas swung as hard as he could, sending it flying toward the other end of the court.

“No. But you did.” He glared at her and she glared back, neither realizing the entire gym had gone silent.

“You crossed a line, Novak,” she hissed. “You go any farther and you won’t be able to go back.”

“And how do you think Lucifer would feel if he found out his perfect, precious Lilith used to bang Bela Talbot?”

“He won’t believe you.” Her gaze wavered in time with her voice.

Adrenaline pushed Cas further—probably too far. “Wouldn’t he?”

 

* * *

 

In Field Biology, Dean heard whispers of something happening between Cas and Lilith first block.

“Do you know what happened?” he asked Balthazar.

“Sounds like Cassy finally stood up. Don’t know if that was the best decision.”

“What do you mean?”

“He gets beat down for doing nothing. What do you think will happen now that he’s done ‘something’?”

“Speaking of, I never found out about the Bela thing.”

Balthazar rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine. Lucifer has a Camaro.”

Dean waited for more. “Yeah…”

“He emancipated his parents.”

“I know.”

Balthazar heaved an exasperated sigh. “How do you think he makes enough to maintain the keep? On his car alone. He has a part-time job at the mall and that’s it.” His voice lowered. “Legally speaking. In the past couple years, he’s endeavored into a…providing, sort of business.”

“He does drugs?” Dean questioned in equally hushed tones.

“Did I say that? No. Strictly a dealer.”

“And how does this involve Bela?”

“She owes him money. Several large handfuls of four figure bills. She got close to him, asked to borrow some money—no idea what for. What matters is she didn’t tell anyone she was moving and then one day she was gone.”

“So why is everyone set on pairing Cas and Bela up?”

“Why do you want to know? Jealous?”

“What? No!” Dean said a little too quickly. “I just…I don’t get it.”

“You don’t need to ‘get’ everything,” Balthazar said before turning around to face the front.

 

At lunch, Dean practically had to drag Cas through the doors and to the table. In response to their table’s funny look, Dean said, “He’s realized he’s ‘done a terrible thing’.”

Gabe chuckled. “Really? ‘Done a terrible thing’?”

“I quote,” Dean added, pushing Cas into a seat.

“I can’t believe I said that.” Cas stared at a spot on the other side of the table, still in shock, apparently.

“What did you even say?” Gabe asked. “I’ve heard everything from Bela being Lilith’s sister to Bela giving Lilith the money to give to Luci, but keeping it instead.”

“Oh, _please_ ,” Balthazar said. “Is everyone here really that dull?”

Anna turned to him. “I’m sorry, were you there?”

“I don’t have to be there to know what happened,” Balthazar said coolly.

“Okay.” Dean folded his arms on the table. “So what’s the truth?”

“Bela and Lilith were fucking.”

Cas’ head flew up to look straight at Balthazar. “You saw them, too?”

“Wait—are you _serious_?” Anna asked incredulously.

“No, I didn’t _see_ them,” Balthazar said. “But the only things I’ve heard involve both Bela and Lilith and no one would give two flying fucks if they were related because that means nothing here and Lilith would never double cross Lucifer if it involved money, but if it was sex…well, it’s Lilith.”

After several moments of silence, Gabe responded with, “Damn.”

“Hold on,” Anna said. “Castiel, when did you find out?”

Cas gulped. “Freshmen year. I…I saw them in a car.”

“And you didn’t tell anyone?” For once, Gabe’s candy remained in his pocket.

“Of course not! They would’ve killed me!”

“Well, you just blackmailed her,” Dean said.

“ _I know_ ,” Cas groaned. “That’s my problem. Lucifer’ll literally have my head when he finds out.”

“Won’t he have Lilith’s?” Dean questioned.

“If the truth got around, he wouldn’t believe it. Not coming from me. And even if he did, he’d still have my head.”

Balthazar muttered something Dean couldn’t make out.

“What?”

“I said, I think _you_ beat him to it.”

Dean rolled his eyes, glad that Cas was lost in his thoughts. He might think Balthazar was serious.

“Hey, what’s your next class?” he asked, poking Cas’ shoulder to get his attention.

“Um…I have History.”

“Good. Mr. Stark won’t mind if you ditch.”

“Dean Winchester, how dare you encourage ditching class,” Anna reprimanded.

“I’m a pro,” Dean said. “I probably missed more school than I made back in Kansas.”

“Oh, really?” Gabe raised a dubious eyebrow.

“Yes, really,” Dean said. “And because I’m an excellent friend, I’m going to take Cas out for ice cream.”

Anna stared at him like it was a preposterous idea. “How is that going to help anything?”

“It’s ice cream. And it’ll get Cas out of school and away from L-squared.”

Gabe raised his eyes to look behind Dean. “You might want to head out now. Zachy—poo’s headed this way and it looks like somebody did more than pee on his pancakes today.”

Dean reached for Cas’ hand, but stopped himself before anyone noticed. “C’mon, dude. We’re out.” He ushered Cas quickly out of the lunchroom, down the hall, and out to the parking lot. Cas looked about ready to have a panic attack.

“I need a time machine.”

“I’ll let you know if I see a man with a bowtie,” Dean said. “But until then, let’s focus on the fact that you didn’t let Lilith slam you around today.”

“That would’ve been preferable,” Cas said as Dean backed the car out.

“How about we go out of town,” Dean suggested. “Then we don’t have to worry about anybody seeing us and we can just relax for a while.”

“They’ll just kill me tomorrow.”

“Hey, nobody’s gonna do anything to you on my watch, okay? And besides, there’s only two more days of school and over break it’ll all blow over.”

“Dean.”

“Yeah?”

“Please stop talking.”

 

* * *

 

They drove forty-five minutes or so before finding a place a fair distance away. Dean hadn’t been kidding. He pulled into a Whitey’s and the two of them got out of the car.

“So,” Dean said. “What kind of ice cream do you like?”

“It’s been a while since I had any…”

“Wait.” Dean grabbed Cas’ shoulder and stopped him. “How long is ‘a while’?”

“Like…two years. Maybe three.” Dean looked ready to faint.

“Oh, Cas. My dear, little bird. You are not _living_.”

“What’s your favorite animal?” Cas asked abruptly.

“What? Um…dog. Why?”

“Just wondering, pup.”

“Nonononono. I take it back.”

“Okay.” Cas pinched Dean’s cheeks. “Little fishy face.”

Dean groaned.

“What’s wrong, Miss Piggy?”

“Now that’s enough. Maybe I won’t buy you ice cream.”

“Okay. I’ll just continue not living.”

“Ugh. Fine, fine, fine. We have to actually get inside first.” He held the door open for Cas. “So really. What do you want?”

“Something fruity?”

Dean laughed. “Why don’t you just sit down and I’ll get you something good.”

Cas chose an isolated booth by a window—not like there were many un-isolated booths on a Monday afternoon—and scanned over the overwhelming amount of ice cream flavors displayed on the wall. He was wondering what on earth “Smurf” ice cream could possibly taste like when Dean came over carrying a shake and a bowl with two scoops of pink ice cream.

“Strawberry,” Dean said. “We’ll start simple. Shake or scoop?”

“Shake,” Cas said.

Dean passed him the cup and slid into the opposite side, propping his feet up by Cas.

Cas attempted to use the straw, but Dean said, “Word of advice. Use the spoon.”

It worked much better that way.

“Sod do you wanna come over Thursday morning or afternoon? I guess whenever—Sam and Jess are leaving Wednesday after school so they can relax a little bit before the Moore Thanksgiving.”

“Your dad’s leaving tomorrow, right?” Cas asked.

Dean nodded.

“What about Wednesday? Anna’s family is having Thanksgiving dinner then, and she could drop me off on the way.”

“Sure.” Dean grinned. “That’s _two_ nights to ourselves.”

“Good job, Einstein. As long as you don’t get sick of me.”

Dean stuck his tongue out at Cas. “Not a chance. He shifted his feet and they brushed against Cas’ thigh. (Intentional or not, he wasn’t sure.)

Cas felt someone staring and he glanced over to see one of the girl workers watching the two of them and giggling. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I don’t mean to be creepy, but you two are adorable.”

Dean cracked a smile. “Isn’t he? Just look at the face.”

“Daphne, I need you back here,” a voice came from a back room.

“Sorry,” the girl said again before disappearing.

Cas shoved Dean’s foot with his leg. “Don’t do that,” he whispered.

“Do what? Show off my boyfriend? You heard her. We’re adorable.”

Cas shook his head and rolled his eyes. “What does Smurf ice cream taste like?” he asked, changing the subject.

“I’ll get you some—”

“No—I might not like it. I just want to know.”

“We’ll split a single scoop,” Dean said, already getting up.

Cas wondered how he’d finished his ice cream so fast without getting a brain freeze.

Dean came back with one dish and one spoon.

“It has marshmallows in it,” Cas said in surprise.

Dean shook his head. “Unbelievable.” He slid in across from Cas. “Here. First bite.” He held up a spoonful.

“I’m perfectly capable of feeding myself.”

“Humor me.”

Cas sighed and leaned forward to accept the bite.

“So?” Dean asked. “What do you think?”

“It’s…good,” Cas decided. “I don’t really know what it tastes like, but it’s good.”

Dean held another spoonful up, this time higher. “I think it matches your eyes.”

Cas laughed and went back to his strawberry shake. “That was extremely unromantic. And I try to put a _minimal_ amount of food die in my eyes, thank you.”

“So _that’s_ your secret,” Dean said, nodding slowly.

Cas gave him a disapproving look as he took a rather large bite. “If that turns your mouth blue, I’m not kissing you.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A THOUSAND APOLOGIES FOR HOW LONG THIS TOOK. I GOT SIDETRACKED WATCHING TEEN WOLF. NOT LIKE THAT'S AN EXCUSE. UPDATES WILL BE MORE REGULAR AGAIN. PLEASE ACCEPT MY HUMBLE BARELY SEX SCENES. PART FOURTEEN IS ALMOST DONE.

Cas skipped school the next day, calling the office to say he was sick and Dean to say not to pick him up. Dean guessed the lie and asked if he’d go tomorrow.

“Probably not,” Cas admitted. “I don’t want to render myself immobile before tomorrow night.

Dean sighed. “You’ll go back Monday though, right?”

“Yes. I can’t miss the rest of the year.” As nice as that sounded.

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow after school.”

“Yup. Bye.”

“Bye.”

After three, he called Anna to make sure it was okay for her and her family to drop him off at the Winchesters’ tomorrow, which of course it was.

* * *

The Miltons would arrive any minute and Castiel was in the bathroom staring at his arms. They’d healed nicely for the most part, but if Dean saw them, it was all over. Maybe he should just call and say he was sick—

A honk sounded outside, letting him know the Miltons were there. He gathered his nerve and his book bag—not full of books—and left the discomfort of his own home.

“Hey, Castiel,” Anna greeted, with an all-knowing smile.

“Hello, Anna.”

“It’s good to see you, Castiel,” Mrs. Milton said from the front seat. “Outside of school, I mean.”

Cas did his best to give Anna’s mother—and his former step-mother—a warm smile.

 

Once he was standing at the Winchesters’ front door, he took a moment to gather himself. Dean had texted him earlier, saying that his dad and brother were boy gone and to come on in whenever he got there.

Okay. Don’t lose your nerves. Cas knew what he was going to do…

He opened the door and left his bag just inside. Dean appeared from the kitchen, a grin on his face.

Cas didn’t waste any time. He vaulted into Dean’s arms, wrapping his legs around the other boy’s and fingers clinging to his skin. This took Dean by surprise, but he reacted quickly, staying on his feet and arms tightening around Cas.

“Somebody’s anxious,” Dean said against his mouth.

Cas answered with his tongue and Dean didn’t use any more words for a while.

He made it upstairs with Cas effortlessly. At the threshold of his room, Cas slipped down so his feet were on the floor and put his hands on Dean’s shoulders and pushed him back, which Dean seemed to like. He backed Dean onto the bed and crawled on top of him, working on getting the other boy’s shirt off.

Cas kissed his now bare chest and trailed his fingers along Dean’s perfectly sculpted arms. He leaned down so his lips were brushing Dean’s ear. “Are you a screamer, Dean?”

“Not usually.”

“You will be,” Cas promised as Dean’s hands moved to pull Cas’ shirt over his head.

The blinds were closed and the light was off and things got dark early in November; Cas felt fairly secure.

Dean fumbled with unbuttoning Cas’ jeans and Cas offered no assistance. He fluttered kisses along Dean’s jawline, moving down to his neck, to his shoulder, and back to his moth. Dean had finally gotten Cas’ jeans undone and he slipped out of them before removing Dean’s. Underwear hit the floor and with nothing between them, everything seemed that more much intense, that much more urgent.

Dean’s hands trailed along Cas’ spine to the small of his back before bringing him close and rolling over. Cas hooked a leg around one of Dean’s and Dean’s fingers entangled themselves in Cas’ hair. He kissed Cas’ neck and Cas turned his head and lifted his chin, giving Dean easier access. He shuddered as Dean’s fingers trailed below his waist.

“If I scream,” Dean breathed, “I won’t be the only one.”

Cas pushed Dean back over and teased his fingers along Dean’s rim, eliciting a gasp from the other boy. He dug his nails into Cas’ back and Cas slid one finger in. Dean lifted his knees and Cas left kisses on them and the insides of his thighs before adding a second finger, scissoring them, slowly working Dean open. Because slow was good. Slow was very good.

Dean fumbled blindly around in his nightstand drawer and thrust a bottle at Cas as he added a third finger.

“Just do it,” he moaned.

“Be patient, little lion,” Cas whispered. “This isn’t the backseat.” And the last thing Cas wanted was to hurt Dean. But he was starting to look—and sound—pretty desperate, so Cas applied some lube and slid slowly inside Dean. The other boy moaned and his hips lifted involuntarily. Cas took that to mean he was okay. He pulled back slightly and then went a bit deeper, taking his time, not rushing. Dean’s hands moved to his ass and pushed him in deeper faster. Cas rocked his hips again and Dean’s hands stayed put, pushing for more. Cas slid his hands to Dean’s shoulders and down his upper arms, gently forcing his hands away as Cas’ hands moved down his forearms and entwined their fingers.

Cas kissed Dean again and for a moment, they shared the same breath.

Cas paused, a thought crossing his mind coming from who knows where. “Should we be using a condom?”

“Is there any reason to?” Dean asked, kissing him again.

Cas knew he was clean and if Dean did, too, then he supposed it didn’t matter. He set his hips in motion again, slightly faster than before.

Dean moaned his name & Cas moved quicker, went deeper. Just before Dean climaxed, Cas slowed. Dean tried to lift a hand, but Cas pushed his hands into the sheets.

“Cas, c’mon,” he whined.

“When are you going to learn?” Cas asked, nuzzling the hollow of his throat. Granted, this was the first time they were _actually_ having sex. The other time was just a blowjob and the backseat of the Impala was rushed and messy and…not the real thing.

And, yes, at the end of the hour Dean did scream. He screamed Cas’ name.

  * * *



Dean woke up in the middle of the night, his clock telling him it was a little past two. He turned back to Cas who was curled up beside him. Dean wrapped an arm around him and pressed a kiss to his brow. He usually wasn’t the snuggly type, but with Cas, that just went out the window.

Cas nestled closer in the nest that was Dean and sheets. Dean smiled fondly at him—his little bird. He ran his fingers softly through Cas’ hair and, even in sleep, Cas leaned into it.

He wished Cas always looked this relaxed. Eyes closed, no lines of worry, muscles not tense. If only he knew what was going on…aside from the everyone hating him and harassment. He _knew_ there was something else and he was sick of seeing Cas hurt and miserable because of it. And if it was a person, God so help whoever it was.

He moved to get up and Cas recoiled. Dean frowned and stopped. Instead, he pulled Cas’ head against his chest and wrapped both arms around the skinny boy. Nobody touched his Cas.

  * * *



Castiel was falling. He was falling, falling, falling, and the ground was so far away and landing was going to hurt, hurt, hurt, and every bone in his body would be shattered, splintered, and broken and the velocity at which he was falling combined with the violent wind was snapping his wings and he couldn’t breathe or even open his mouth to scream because the air was toxic and—

Cas threw himself upright, heart hammering and blood racing. _Dreaming. Dreaming. Just a dream._

He was at Dean’s house, in Dean’s room, under Dean’s blankets. Castiel was not falling. Castiel’s bones were not breaking. Castiel did not have wings. _Breathe._

The space beside him was empty, but the bedroom door was open and there was a light coming from a crack beneath a door down the hall.

Cas studied his breathing and disentangled himself from the sheets and blankets. He needed a drink of water.

He made his way down the stairs in the dark and found his bag by the door. He pulled out a pair of pajama pants and a too-big shirt and slipped them on before getting a glass from the cupboard.

Dean came down the stairs a few seconds later and turned on the light.

“You okay?”

Cas nodded. “I just got thirsty.”

Dean was shirtless and his pants were hanging a tad too low and Cas tried to distract himself with that from the vivid nightmare.

“You sure?” Dean asked, and Cas knew he’d been caught.

“It’s nothing,” he insisted.

“Could you please stop lying to me?” Dean requested. “Please?”

Cas sighed. “It was just a dream.”

Dean pressed his forehead to Cas’. “What about?”

“It doesn’t matter—I just needed a drink—“

Dean grabbed the glass Cas had yet to drink from and took his hand. “Come back up.”

Cas followed without protest and Dean set the water on the nightstand before crawling back into bed and pulling Cas with him.

“Now tell me,” Dean said, pulling the bedding up to their shoulders. “What was the dream about?”

Cas sighed in resignation. “I was…falling.”

Dean’s brow furrowed. “Falling?”

“I…no, it’s stupid and it’s over.”

“Hey.” Dean cupped the side of Cas’ face in his palm. “It’s not stupid if it scared you.”

“I was falling and I had wings. And…and I could see the ground, but I was _so high_ and I’d been falling for so longer and there was this awful wind and my bones were breaking. I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t open my mouth because the air was like poison and my _bones_ kept _breaking_ —“ Cas was shuddering and he couldn’t help it and Dean, perfect Dean, didn’t say anything, just held him and pressed kisses on his head.

“Should I stop calling you a bird, then?” Dean teased.

Cas smiled despite the bad dream. “No. I like it when you call me a bird.”

He felt Dean smile against his hair. “Then I won’t stop, bird boy.”

“I’m sorry,” Cas apologized a few seconds later.

“What? Why?”

“I got all touchy-feely.”

“So?”

“I know you hate that.”

“What? No! I—Cas, jeez. Relax. I don’t—I’m just not good at it. Go to sleep. We’ve got all day tomorrow—and all night.” He kissed the corner of Cas’ mouth.

* * *

Dean didn’t fall asleep for a while. He kind of wanted to make sure Cas didn’t have any more nightmares—hell, he’d been perfectly fine before Dean left to go to the bathroom, but in a matter of minutes he’d woken up from some freaky dream.

Dean rubbed circles with his thumb on the back of Cas’ hand. If he could take him away, he would. He _wanted_ to, so bad. He left a kiss on the tip of Cas’ nose and watched as his eyes fluttered open.

“Is it morning?”

“It’s almost four,” Dean said.

Cas sat up and reached over Dean for his glass of water. “We should sleep over more often,” Cas said after taking a sip.

Dean smiled and Cas replaced the glass.

“Next time one of our dads are gone, I’ll see if Sam wants to stay over somewhere.”

Cas curled up against him. “Should I go home before Jo and your other friends show up on Friday?”

“No,” Dean said without hesitation. “You should stay.” He pressed his lips to Cas’ neck and Cas sighed contentedly.

“Close your eyes, angel.” And Dean blamed the hour for the use of the girly pet name. It was definitely just the time.

* * *

Cas awoke to an empty bed and he got up to check downstairs. It was only nine o’clock, and he didn’t think Dean would voluntarily get up that early if he didn’t have to.

But Dean was in the kitchen, flipping through a flier. He looked up when Cas came down and smiled. “Good morning, sunshine.”

“I didn’t think you’d be up at this time,” Cas said.

Dean tapped a finger pointedly on the flier. “There’s a place that I was gonna pick up some traditional Thanksgiving food from. They stay open until eleven.”

“We could just make something.”

“We can do that anytime,” Dean said. “Other things…not so much.” He pressed a kiss to Cas’ temple and slid an arm behind his back. Cas wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist and rested his head on Dean’s shoulder.

“You know,” he said, “you don’t have to get anything fancy.”

“Yes, I do.” Dean left a kiss on the top of Cas’ head. “Otherwise you don’t eat.”

“You’re going to make me fat,” Cas whined.

“We can work it off,” Dean promised before letting go. “But I’ve got to shower before I go anywhere. As much as I’m sure people would delight in the smell of sex.”

“I could shower with you,” Cas suggested, his back against the counter.

Dean groaned. “Later,” he promised—Cas _and_ himself. “I don’t want to get distracted and be late.”

Cas spied a coffee maker sitting on the counter. He wasn’t particularly fond of the taste, but he asked Dean, “Do you like coffee?”

“Yeah, coffee’s good.”

Cas smiled. “Go take a shower. I’ll make some.”

“Thanks. Do you want to come with? Into town, I mean.”

Cas could just imagine seeing someone from school and things going way south from there. “No, I think I’ll just wait here.”

Dean seemed to understand why. “Okay. Help yourself to anything.” He kissed the corner of Cas’ mouth before going back upstairs.

Cas plugged the coffee maker in. It was similar to the one collecting dust at this house, which hadn’t been used since the Miltons lived with them, but Cas was pretty sure he could remember how it worked. He went through a few drawers, searching for filter paper.

Once the machine was working, Cas opened the fridge, looking for something to drink. He remembered his glass was still upstairs and he went up to fetch it, taking his book bag with him. Water was running and the bathroom door was closed, so Cas went to Dean’s room to change. He’d shower later tonight. Dressed and toothbrush in hand, Cas knocked on the bathroom door, unsure if he was overstepping his bounds and what the bounds actually were.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I brush my teeth?”

“No, Cas. I want you to let them rot.”

“I can wait—“

“That was a joke, Cas. It’s fine.”

Cas opened the door slowly and stepped inside. The bathroom was delightfully warm against his skin and he took his time brushing.

“Hey, Cas?” Dean said from behind the curtain.

“Yes?”

“Make sure your phone’s on. I’ll probably call you. I’m guessing they’ll have options.”

“Okay.”

Cas went back in to Dean’s room, dug out his phone, and plugged it in; it had been dead. Realizing he’d probably be downstairs most of the time, he unplugged it from the wall and charged it from the same outlet as the coffee maker.

 

When Dean came downstairs, Cas had a cup of coffee waiting for him. “Is black okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, black’s good,” Dean confirmed.

Cas’ eyes smiled, happy his instincts had been correct.

Dean sat at the table and wrapped his fingers around the cup, warming them. “Don’t you want any?” he asked.

Cas shook his head. “I don’t like the taste.”

Dean lifted a finger. “Sam used to say that. Open that cupboard and get the sugar out and get the milk from the fridge.

Cas did as he was instructed and set them by Dean on the table.

“Now pour some for yourself and fill the cup about three-fourths full.”

Cas did that too, then set it next to the milk and sugar.

“Okay,” Dean said. “Fill it up the rest of the way with milk and put like…three spoonfuls of sugar in it.”

“Do you think you could get some tea?” Cas asked as he finished adding milk and got a spoon. “When you get the food?”

“Sure. What kind? I’m not really familiar.”

“Whatever looks good. Powder, bags, premade. If you get tea bags, get honey.” He dropped in the third spoonful of sugar and tired a sip.

“What do you think?”

Cas made a face. “It’s still too bitter.”

“Add a little more sugar…” He paused as Cas added five, maybe more spoonfuls worth, pouring it straight in from the bag. “…or a lot.”

Cas stirred it and tried it again. “Much better,” he said, putting back the sugar and milk and sitting by Dean.

“So you like some coffee with your sugar?”

“This is why it’s better if you just get me tea,” Cas stated. “Less risk of diabetes.”

“I guess.”

They sipped their drinks in silence for a few moments.

“When’s your birthday?” Dean asked suddenly.

“Why?”

“Because I’m your boyfriend and I need to know.”

“When’s yours?” Cas asked.

“January twenty-fourth.”

“Seriously?”

“No, I’m joking,” Dean replied drily.

Cas grinned. “I’m older than you.”

“Shit, has it already passed?”

“January twenty-third.”

“No way.” Dean sat up a little straighter. “That’s crazy.”

“Isn’t it?” Cas sipped his super-sweet coffee. “But don’t make a big deal about it—not in school,” he added hurriedly. “I think everyone’s forgotten and I’d like to keep it that way.”

Dean frowned. “They shouldn’t be allowed to make your life so awful.”

Cas shook his head. “It’s not that awful. Not now, anyway.”

Dean leaned across the table and kissed Cas softly. “I won’t make a big deal at school, then. But we will be going out for dinner.”

Cas made a face. “Do we have to?”

“Yes,” Dean said, leaving no room for argument. “And then for _my_ birthday…we can stay in.” He smiled slyly.

“I guess I can live with that,” Cas said.

 

Dean returned a few minutes after eleven with two carry-out trays stacked precariously on the palm of his hand.

“Dean, don’t drop it!”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got it.” He set the Styrofoam boxes on the table. “Why do you always say my name?”

“Because I like to,” Cas responded curtly. “Why did you scream my name last night?”

“Because I like to,” Dean mimicked in a high-pitched voice that sounded nothing like Cas.

“So you’d like to do it again?”

“Castiel Novak. You little flirt.”

Cas shrugged with a smile and Dean gave him a chaste kiss. “Later,” he purred in Cas’ ear. Then louder, “But first, we eat.”

“You didn’t get the dark turkey, right?” Cas asked, taking a seat and lifting the lid.

“I got exactly what you said. If anything there’s wrong, it’s either the servers fault or yours.” Dean grabbed some silverware and then sat across from Cas. “You know, for your prime response to any question being a nonverbal, ‘I don’t know,’ you can be a picky little princess.”

Cas flicked a small piece of turkey at him. “You asked for it.”

“Why don’t we eat in the living room and see what’s on TV,” Dean suggested, standing up.

Cas followed and the two sat on opposite ends of the sofa, legs up and playing footsy while Dean flipped through channels.

Cas took a bite of his mashed potatoes. “Dean?” he asked after swallowing.

“Yeah?”

“Are you going to tell Jo?”

“I told you, I probably won’t have to, but if she doesn’t catch on…yeah, probably. I mean, she’s been my best friend since before I started school. If you’re okay with her knowing.”

“I guess I don’t mind, I just…if you tell her, then shouldn’t your other friends know, too? And I’ve been thinking, if Anna knows, shouldn’t we tell Gabe and Balthazar?”

“Well…yeah, I guess. I mean, we don’t have to if you’re not one hundred percent, but…do you know how to tell someone you’re gay? Someone that thinks you’ve been ramrod straight all your life?”

“I don’t know how to tell anyone anything.”

“Should I just say we’re dating?”

“I don’t know.” Cas didn’t mention that he didn’t feel like they were dating—they were _together_. They had each other. But that was cheesy and Dean wasn’t cheesy and he didn’t want to scare him off either.

“Okay,” Dean said. “I’ll let you tell everyone.”

“Wait—what about Garth’s girlfriend?”

“I heard that she had a girlfriend at her old school,” Dean said. “And even if she didn’t, she doesn’t seem pro-hate. Plus, she lives all the way in Lawrence. Not so concerned.”

“Okay.” If Dean thought it was okay, then Cas felt alright about it. “We could just hold hands the whole time.”

Dean grinned. “Or we could make a sex tape and tell everyone it’s Batman.”

“You’re not funny. We could just tell them outright.”

“I could get you a promise ring.”

“We could elope,” Cas shot back.

“I think I still like the sex tape idea best.”

“I will throw more turkey at you,” Cas threatened.

“Put the meat away.”

“If there was an IQ for maturity, you would be an idiot,” Cas said.

“What if there was an IQ test for sexual pleasure?”

Cas canted his head, pretending to think. “I’m pretty sure I’d have you beat.”

 

It was half past nine and Dean had Cas shoved up against the kitchen wall. Somehow, they’d gone from washing dishes to kissing and things had escalated quickly from there.

Cas’ shoulder bumped the light switch, flipping it off, and Dean moved a foot in the other direction so the switch wouldn’t be digging into his skin.

Dean lifted Cas up and Cas hooked his legs around Dean after they’d wriggled out of their clothes.

“The lube’s upstairs,” Dean said, detaching their mouths just long enough to speak.

“Forget it,” Cas said. He wanted Dean inside him and he didn’t care if it hurt or not.

“Are you sure?”

Cas answered with his tongue.

Dean had one hand against the wall for balance and he kept the other behind Cas’ neck as he slid inside Cas after spitting on his palm and coating his dick with it best he could.

Cas gasped and Dean asked, “You okay?” Cas nodded and Dean went a bit farther.

Cas dug his fingers into Dean’s back and kissed him encouragingly. He could tell Dean was still trying to be careful with him, but that really wasn’t what Cas wanted right now. He lifted his hips the best he could in his position and thrust against Dean. That got the other boy going a bit more and in minutes Dean had Cas screaming his name as he came. Dean smiled against Cas’ skin as his feet slid to the floor.

“I told you I wouldn’t be the only one screaming,” Dean breathed.

Cas kissed him, trembling slightly, but feeling better than he had in a while despite being in slight pain. It was good. “I guess we’re even.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Round of applause for my lovely beta, Heidi (gwainpain89), for saving this. Sometimes I sleep-write and the end result is different when on paper or screen than in my head. She makes it bearable. Also, sorry this took so long! I had half of it done, but then hit a block, but now I'm on a roll again. :D The last ~1/3 of this part is currently unbeta'd, but that's because I just finished it and it's almost 1am.

Later that night, lying next to Cas and trucked beneath the blankets, Dan found himself worrying he’d maybe hurt Cas. He hadn’t acted like it at all, but still—if roles were flipped, Dean was pretty sure he’d have been hurting. But waking Cas up would to ask be stupid, so he just pulled the boy closer.

Their friends would be showing up tomorrow and they’d get to break it to everyone that they were together. Probably best to get it done right away.

Cas stirred in his sleep and Dean watched his features morph into a troubled expression. He rubbed comforting circles on the boy’s back, but they didn’t seem to help. Cas made a scared, whimpering sound that pretty much broke Dean’s heart, and he helped Cas into a sitting position, waking him up. He kept his arms around the smaller boy’s frame.

Cas stiffened for a moment as he came into consciousness before becoming aware he was with Dean.

“What is it?” Dean asked, gently stroking Cas’ hair. “Another nightmare?”

Cas exhaled a shaky breath. “The same as before.”

Dean closed his eyes for a moment, accepting the lie and moving on. “It’s okay. You’re with me. Do you want some water?”

“No,” Cas said, sounding very small. “Will you wake me up again? If it happens again?”

Dean pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Of course.”

They laid back down, Cas burrowing into Dean’s arms, and Dean wished he knew what was going on with Cas. Then maybe he could help him.

 

In the morning (it was before noon, so yes, it was morning) Dean woke up to an empty bed, and…was that…he sniffed…bacon? He rolled out of bed and made his way downstairs, rubbing his eyes; he’d spent a lot of time awake last night, watching for signs that Cas was having another bad dream.

“Oh, good. You’re up.”

“And you’re making breakfast,” Dean observed.

“Good job, Sherlock. Have a seat. The eggs are almost done.”

“Does Watson usually cook for Sherlock?”

“You know…on second thought,” Cas said,” I think I’d be Sherlock. You might not be able to pull off a trench coat.”

“Oh? Well, you might get lost in a coat that size.”

Cas smiled to himself.

“What?” Dean asked.

“You said something like that before…we got to know each other.”

“Hmm…I guess I did.”

Cas set a full plate of eggs, bacon, and holy shit there was even biscuits and gravy.

“Should I buy you an apron or something?” Dean teased.

“Should I make you vegetable soup instead?”

“Alright, never mind! Aren’t you gonna eat anything?”

“I’m not that hungry.”

“Too bad. Eat something Or I’ll make your plate and force-feed you.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “ _Fine_.” He didn’t put _a lot_ on his plate, but Dean figured it was still progress.

“What time is everyone showing up?” Cas asked.

“Jo was planning on getting here late afternoon, early evening—it depends on how often they stop—and we’re supposed to text Anna, Gabe, and Balthazar when they can come.”

Cas nodded, taking a bite of biscuit dipped in gravy.

“Does Balthazar have a nickname?”

“A nickname?” Cas repeated, taken by surprise. “I don’t think so. Why?”

“’Balthazar’ is a mouthful—I was just wondering.”

Cas smirked. “You could call him B-zar.”

“That’s one of the worst jokes ever,” Dean said, but he laughed anyway.

 

* * *

 

Cas felt oddly calm, despite the fact that he was going to come out to a group of eight people in a few short hours. It wasn’t scary because these were all friends—his or Dean’s or both—and…he was with Dean. Why would he be afraid to tell people he knew he could trust about Dean? Of course, they still hadn’t decided how they were going to tell everyone.

Dean draped an arm over Cas’ shoulders. They’d finished breakfast and were lounging on the couch. “Jo says they’ll be here around two.”

“Do you want some time with just them?”

“Cas, they’re your friends, too, now. Oh—and Jo’s bringing some of her writing.”

“I don’t have any of my art here,” Cas said, grabbing his phone from the arm of the sofa to text Anna, Gabriel, and Balthazar to come around two.

“We can go pick some stuff up,” Dean offered.

“Sure. Now?”

Dean got to his feet. “Let’s go.”

Cas followed him out and by the driver’s side of the Impala, Dean paused.

“What is it?” Cas asked.

“Do you want to drive her?”

“Do I—is something wrong?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “No, nothing’s wrong. It’s just a simple question. It seems like I do all the driving.”

“Do you mind?” Cas asked. “I mean—I don’t have a car, otherwise—“

“Dude. Stop talking.” He tossed Cas they keys and walked around to the passenger side. “You drive.”

Cas walked to the opposite side, keys in hand, slightly stunned.

“But hey”—Dean pointed at Cas—“scratch my baby, and I scratch you.”

Cas grinned. He twisted the key in the ignition and felt the car purr to life. He turned around in the driveway carefully, getting adjusted to how the vehicle responded. Cas fiddled with the radio before pulling onto the road.

“Hey, what are you doing—“

“Driver picks the music,” Cas quoted, “shotgun shuts his cakehole.”

Dean groaned as Cas found a classical station and Cas laughed.

“Cas, come on—“

“Classical music improves overall performance,” Cas said.

Dean gave him a sideways glance. “Was that an innuendo?”

Cas shrugged innocently.

To be brief, Cas got them safely to his house and Dean seemed somewhat impressed.

“When was the last time you drove?” he asked.

“I drive to the store occasionally, when my dad’s passed out and we need food.”

“Oh. I’ve never seen you drive, I guess.”

“I don’t that often.”

“Well, you’re good.”

“I’m a fast learner.”

Dean leaved over and kissed him. “That you are.”

Before things got too intense, they got out of the car.

 

* * *

 

Inside, Cas opened his closet while Dean plopped down on his bed. Cas began pulling out painting after painting, drawing after drawing, and how in the hell did he have that many? He leaned them against the wall, slightly overlapping, and placed the smaller ones on his desk. Dean might’ve admired the view a little bit before he spoke.

“You made _all these?_ ”

Cas shrugged. “Most of them I need to get rid of. I just haven’t gotten around to it.”

“Uh, no,” Dean said decisively, getting up to marvel at the texture of the bark on a tree. Cas flipped it around quickly so it was facing the wall.

“That one’s horrible.”

“Dude, what’re you smoking? I could practically feel the bark.”

Cas shook his head stubbornly.

“You know, if you don’t like some of these, you could sell them.”

“Who would buy a high schooler’s cheap art?”

“Cas, I’m not kidding—Sam went through an art phase last year, and you can ask him, but I seriously think you could make some money off these.”

“I’ll think about it,” he said in a dismissive tone. “Is there anything here you think Jo would enjoy?”

“Well, I don’t know, is there anything here you _don’t_ have?”

Cas canted his head thoughtfully, pausing as he withdrew another canvas. “I haven’t ever done a shark.”

“No sharks.”

“I do have a whale painting, though.”

“Are you kidding me?” Dean asked, incredulous.

Cas stopped pulling things out of his closet and Dean was starting to think he was using Narnia for storage; he could see there were still things in there.

While Cas pondered over what to bring, Dean picked up a sketchbook from the nightstand and began flipping through it. The first few pages were rough sketches of his room. A window and the scene outside, a wood grain, a pile of clothes, a jar of pencils.  Other things worked their way onto the paper then. A nose here, an ear there. Body parts scattered across a page. A hand, an arm, lips and a jawline. Slowly, over a series of pages, they joined together. Dean turned the page and before he could gasp, Cas snatched the book from Dean’s hands. “Don’t look at that.”

“You were drawing me.”

“Parts of you.”

“When did you do those?”

“Just forget it.”

“Were you watching me while I slept?”

“No. Sometimes. Mostly I memorized and I drew later.”

“You were memorizing my face.”

“Forget you saw this.”

“Is it weird that I find that kind of hot?”

Cas threw a pencil at him. “Shut up.”

Dean caught his wrist and pulled Cas onto the bed.

“ _Dean_ ,” he whined.

“What.” Dean fluttered little kisses along Cas’ jaw.

“We don’t have time for this.”

“I think we do.” He pressed a kiss to the corner of Cas’ mouth.

“But my butt hurts.”

Dean laughed. “Well, my butt hurts, too. We can just exchange saliva for a while.”

“That sounds disgusting.” But he let Dean kiss him two more times before getting up and taking the sketchbook with him.

“Do you have any nudes of me?” Dean asked, propping himself up on his elbow.

“Not of you.”

“What?!”

“It’s called life drawing, Dean.”

“Calypse doesn’t offer a life drawing class.”

“The internet is a wondrous place.”

“So, you drew porn.”

“Just stop talking.”

“ _Would_ you draw me naked?”

“ _Dean!_ ”

“ _Cas!_ ”

Cas threw another pencil at him.

“And anyway, I don’t think it’s a question of would I draw you naked as much as it is would you hold still.”

“Do you wanna find out?” And, yeah, maybe Dean was a little serious.

“Later,” Cas said decidedly.

So. Cas was going to draw him like one of his French girls.

He went back to staring at his art.

“This one,” Dean said, grabbing a blue and purple nightscape. “She likes cool colors.”

“Well, look at you,” Cas teased. “You’re actually learning in art.”

Dean stuck his tongue out. “Everyone knows warm and cool colors.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Bring a naked person, too. I bet she’d enjoy that.”

“I fail to understand how you’re seventeen.”

“Just because you act like you’re thirty doesn’t mean everyone else has to.”

Cas rolled his eyes, but went back into his closet and shuffled around for a few seconds before extracting an impressive looking naked guy.

“Damn,” Dean said.

“This is from last year,” Cas said. “It’s been a while since he saw the light of day.”

Dean laughed to himself.

“What? Is there something wrong with it?”

“No, no, it’s just…we’re gonna tell everybody and he’s coming out of the closet—“ he laughed harder and—despite his best efforts—Cas started laughing, too.

“Hey,” Dean said, once they’d calmed down a bit. “Where that picture of the bird? The one I saw when you almost killed me.”

“The blood one?”

“Yeah,” Dean said enthusiastically. “It’s cool that you thought to do that. After you punched the mirror, I mean. It’s not like you cut your wrists just to do that. You were ‘using your resources’.”

“Right. Okay.” He dropped onto hands and knees by the bed and felt around underneath it for a moment.

“You keep them under your bed, too?”

Cas glanced up at him. “Yeah,” he said, like it was totally natural.

Dean just shook his head.

 

* * *

 

“Cas, get the door, will you?” Dean called from upstairs. Cas was doing dishes while Dean tidied his room upstairs. Dean had warned him they might waltz right in, but maybe they knocked because they hadn’t been to Dean’s new house before.

“Hey, Castiel!” Jo greeted as he swung open the door.

He smiled. “Hello. Dean’s upstairs, he’ll be down in a minute.” He backed up to let the five of them in.

“Oh! Charlie, this is Castiel,” Garth introduced. “Castiel, Charlie.”

She tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear and gave Cas a friendly wave. “Nice to meet you. I’d say these guys have told me all about you, but they’ve only met you once from what I’ve heard, so…”

“There’s not much to tell,” Cas said, forcing himself not to look at Jo, as Dean came down the stairs.

“Welcome to my new abode!” Dean said with a sweeping gesture.

“It’s bigger than your old place,” Adam observed.

Cas noticed Charlie wearing a Tardis t-shirt.

“Yeah, I guess it is. And I don’t have to put up with any bitchy neighbors out here. In this town, that’s a gift. Hey Charlie, make yourself at home.”

She shot him a smile. “Can do.”

“Uh, let’s see. Kitchen, obviously, is here. Upstairs I the bathroom. You’ll be able to find it. Anna, Gabe, and Balthazar should be here in a few minutes. You watch Doctor Who?” Dean asked Charlie.

She glanced down at her shirt. “Yeah, you, too?”

“Just recently. Cas, here, got me into it.”

Ash’s eyes widened in shock. “Dean Winchester watches Doctor Who?”

“Shut up,” Dean said lightly.

“Who’s your favorite Doctor?” Charlie asked, looking at Cas.

“I like the new guy,” Cas admitted.

Charlie nodded enthusiastically. “Matt Smith is great. Nine is my favorite.”

Cas bobbed his head up and down, excited the be able to talk Whovian with someone. “When he traded out Jack’s gun for a banana—“

“Good source of potassium! I’m trying to get Garth trough the first season,” Charlie said as Dean moved everyone into the living room. “Of New Who, I mean.”

“I’ve got Dean almost through the sixth season—I started him with Matt Smith. Then I’m going to take him back to ten, then to nine.”

“Ugh, Doomsday was the _worst_. I bet he cries when he sees it.”

Cas shook his head. “We don’t talk about Doomsday.”

“Do you by any chance watch Sherlock?”

“If they’d ever put out a third season!”

“OMG!” she squealed. “This is great! I can finally fangirl with someone over British TV in real life! I left all my fanatic friends back in Oregon.”

“You lived in Oregon? I’ve always wanted to go there.”

“For the forests, right?”

Cas nodded. “Exactly!”

“Oh, they’re beautiful. I’ve got loads of pictures I could send you. My friends and I used to—okay, well, we didn’t really hike—but we used to take walks through the woods all the time.”

“That’d be great,” Cas said, grinning.

“What’s your number?” Charlie asked. “I’ll text you mine.”

“Are you two done yet?” Dean asked as Cas gave Charlie his cell number.

“I think he just said more in two minutes than I heard him say in two days,” Adam said.

“I’ve been giving him crackers for every sentence he says,” Dean explained.

Cas shot him a dirty look.  
“Why didn’t he come over with the others?” Garth asked. “Not like I’m objecting to your presence,” he said to Cas, putting his hands up.

Dean and Cas exchanged a quick glance before Dean said, “He’s been here since break started.”

Garth gasped in mock horror. “You started the party without us?!”

Okay, so it wouldn’t be that simple.

Just then, there was another knock on the door.

“Jesus,” Dean said. “How fast did they drive.”

He went to get the door and Cas said, “You can leave your stuff in here or take it upstairs.” He felt Jo’s eyes on him and pretended not to notice.

“What the hell did you do,” Dean’s voice carried, “teleport here?”

Cas could picture Anna’s face when she answered sickly, “Gabe drove.”

The others came into the living room and dropped their stuff in the back corner with everyone else’s.

“Charlie,” Dean introduced, “this is Gabe, Anna, and Balthazar.”  
She waved her fingers in the air. “Hello. I’m Charlie.”

“You’re a _red-head_ ,” Gabriel said. “Another one.”

Anna rolled her eyes. “They’re both assholes,” she said dismissively.

“Hey,” Ash said, “statistically speaking, two natural red-heads in a group this size is unnatural.”

“I still don’t understand how you can have the brain you do while looking like that,” Balthazar said.

“Okay, boys, that’s enough,” Jo said.

“Have you got anything to drink?” Adam asked Dean.

“Yeah, in the fridge. Help yourself to whatever.”

“So, on the way here, we were talking about how we could get to know each other better,” Jo said, “and—“

“Why’s there tea in here?” Adam called from in the kitchen.

“That’s Cas’s,” Dean said.

“— _and_ ,” Jo continued, “the most popular choice was truth or dare.”

Adam came back in, Coke in hand. “Can I just say, the girls insisted their votes counted for double because they were outnumbered.”

“It’s totally justified,” Anna defended. “I’m in.”

“Alas, that makes it six to seven,” Balthazar said.

Charlie and Jo grinned slyly at each other before turning puppy dog looks on Garth.

“Oh no,” Adam said, covering his face with his free hand.

“Garth!” Ash said. “Stay strong, brother! You are a _man_!”

Garth squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to look at Jo or Charlie, but Charlie grabbed his hand and said, “ _Pleeeease_ ,” in this ridiculously adorable voice.

He sighed. “I’m in.”

“Traitor!” Gabe shouted, raising a finger to point at Garth.

Balthazar sighed heavily. “There had better be some good dares.”

“Everybody wait a minute,” Ash said, “I’ve gotta take a piss.”

“ _Again?_ ” Jo said in disbelief.

“Dude’s gotta pee!” he said, making his way to the stairs.

“Well, while he’s peeing,” Dean said, “we can get some snacks. We stocked up.”

A few minutes later, they were gathered in the living room, chip bags, drinks, and a packet of gummy bears spread amongst them. Garth and Charlie were sitting on the couch, and Dean and Cas were on the floor with their backs against the edge. Jo, Anna, and Gabe were all sitting on the floor, backs to the TV, and Balthazar, Adam, and Ash were in the three chairs.

“Let’s start with the new girl,” Gabe suggested, popping a red gummy bear into his mouth.

“Okay, but you are _not_ doing it,” Anna said.

“Charlie,” Adam addressed before Anna could say anything more. “Truth or dare.”

“Truth.”

“Is it true…that…you had a girlfriend at your old school?”

She nodded without hesitation. “Yes.”

“I told you!” Ash exclaimed. “For how long?”

Charlie shook her head. “Not your turn. Jo. Truth or dare.”

“Dare.”

“Okay, I dare youuu…tooo…go braless for the nest ten minutes.”

Everyone oh’d together as Jo bravely reached under her shirt and behind her back to  withdraw a purple lace bra a few seconds later.

“Anna,” she said, whipping her hair around. “Truth or dare?”

“This is starting to seem sexist,” Dean said.

“Shut up, Dean. Dare.”

“I dare you to wear my bra as a hat for the next ten minutes.”

Anna raised her eyebrows. “Challenge accepted,” she said, taking Jo’s bra and fastening it under her chin.

“That shade of purple is very becoming on you,” Balthazar said.

Anna batted her lashes. “Why, thank you. Now, Balthazar, the epic question—truth or dare?”

He leaned forward in his chair. “Dare.”

Anna looked up thoughtfully and Jo whispered something in her ear. Anna giggled.

“I dare you to paint your nails and leave it on until it chips off.”

“Brutal,” Garth said from behind Dean.

Balthazar made a face. “I don’t see any nail polish.”

Jo got up and ran over to her bag, then threw something at him—a bottle of lavender nail polish. He groaned. “Really?”

Anna nodded with an expression of mock sympathy. “Both hands.”

He gave a pained sigh and opened the bottle cap. “Adam. Truth or dare.”

And so they went several rounds and things escalated…rather quickly. Adam had to lick Gabe’s foot, Jo didn’t get her bra back (it was now sitting on Balthazar’s head because it matched his freshly painted nails), Gabe lost his jeans, Ash’s hair was being braided by Charlie, and there were scattered truths, too. (Yes, Cas picked truth every time, because he preferred to remain fully clothed in the presence of nine other people.)

Dean got picked again, and by this time over half the group was fairly drunk.

“Dare,” he said confidently.

“Dean,” Adam said, “I dare you. To…kiss someone in this room.”

“No prob—“

“Wait, wait, wait, there’s a catch. It can’t be a girl, and it can’t be me.”

“ _Ooooh!_ ” the group cheered.

“And I want a real _kiss_ ,” Jo said, raising her beer.

Dean nodded slowly, looking around, considering. Cas was only half-expecting it when he leaned toward him and pressed their lips together. And, of course, Cas didn’t even think about fighting it, because this was Dean, so he opened his mouth and returned the kiss, tilting his head back as Dean’s hand came up to his neck. He was even a little disappointed when Dean pulled away.

Someone started a slow clap.

“Damn,” Ash said. “I’ll just be over here questioning my sexuality.”

“Your hair is in a braid and B-zar”—yeah, that nickname had come up—“is wearing a bra and matching nail polish. I currently don’t have any pants. What is sexuality.”

“I kind of wish I’d recorded that,” Adam said. “It would’ve been great for your graduation party next year.”

Dean shrugged. “You missed it. Maybe next time.” He twisted around to look at Garth. “Truth or dare?”

“I’m kind of intimidated right now, but dare.”

“I dare _you_ , my skinny little friend, to down _that_ bottle of alcohol.” Dean pointed a pack of beer on the floor.

“Dean, he’s going to be so wasted!” Jo said, her own words slightly slurred.

Before Dean could say anything back, Garth had a bottle in hand and was chugging it down.

When it came back to Cas, he opened his mouth to say, “Truth,” but Charlie interrupted.

She nudged the back of his head with her foot and said, “Enough truths, mister, it’s time you had a dare.”

“Agreed,” Balthazar said. “Maybe he could wear the brassiere. I think my turn expired some time ago, now.”

Jo clapped her hands together. “I’ve got it! He should wear Dean’s underwear on his head.”

“Is that it?” Dean asked, and Cas wanted to punch him because, though he wanted their friends to know, he wasn’t sure they were all sober enough to remember it.

“For now,” Jo said dastardly. She and Anna exchanged a look and giggled wickedly. Cas was starting to think Jo had already figured it out and that she and Anna had some sort of telepathic link.

“Alrighty, then.” Dean got up and went behind the couch to take his pants off, toss his boxers to Cas, and wriggle back into his jeans. He plopped back down next to Cas. “Need some help with your new hat?”

Cas stuck his tongue out at Dean. “I am perfectly capable of putting your boxers on my head,” he said as he pulled the waistband down to just above his ears.

“Hold on, now it’s crooked,” Dean said.

Cas swatted his hand away. “Stop it.”

Dean grabbed hold of his wrist. “Just hold still a second.” He adjusted his boxers on Cas’ head and tapped the end of Cas’ nose with his finger. “All better.”

Cas rolled his eyes. He was about to truth or dare Garth when Ash raised a hand. “Hold up.”

Everyone turned heads to look at him. His side braid flopped when he spoke. “You two. I have eyes.”

“Is that was those two almond-shaped things on your face are?” Dean remarked.

“As a matter of fact, yes. And my eyes—among other things—are picking up on…things.”

Cas couldn’t help but think, _Finally._

“What things?” Dean pressed.

Charlie caught on quick after that. “Ohmygod.”

Jo jabbed a finger at them. “I knew it!”

Adam looked slightly baffled. “Okay, that—that was like cheating! I call redo on my dare!”

Balthazar heaved an exasperated sigh. “ _Finally_. It’s about time you two lovebirds got the hell out of Narnia.”

Cas’ eyes widened involuntarily. “You knew?”

“A blind man could tell,” he said. “And, as Ash said, we’re all in possession of eyes.”

Garth nodded slowly. “That totally makes sense.”

“But we weren’t even together when we last hung out!” Dean said.

“You two slept together,” Jo said.

“Gabe and Balthazar did, too!” he said quickly.

Jo gave him a look.

“I’m not denying it, I’m just saying.”

“So,” Gabe said. “It’s obviously been a while, but how long exactly?”

Dean and Cas exchanged a look. “Uh…” Dean swallowed, brow furrowing as he thought.

“They won’t even know their own anniversary,” Anna said, face-palming.

“Anna, you should know,” Dean said.

She gaped at him. “It’s not my relationship!”

“No, but you—“

“Dean. I know. But no. You’re going to have to look at a calendar for this one.”

“It was October,” Cas said. “It must have been October.”

Dean nodded in agreement. “October sounds right.”

And so no one was really _that_ surprised when Dean and Cas let their relationship out in the open that little bit. Which was kind of nice, Cas supposed.

 

 

That night, after everyone else was asleep, Jo poked Cas with her toes. “Get up,” she whispered.

Cas crawled carefully away from the dog pile-esque arrangement they’d taken and followed her upstairs after she grabbed something from her bag.

“Get your art,” she told him as they made their way quietly up the stairs.

He got the pieces from Dean’s room, and then Jo opened the door to the laundry room—which was a complete disaster without Sam there—and shut it behind them.

Cas flicked the light switch up.

“Let me see your arms,” she said immediately.

Cas pulled his sleeves up to show her his healing ruts and the absence of new cuts seemed to satisfy her. “So you’re getting better.”

Cas nodded, lying in the sense that, no, he was still cutting, but being truthful because, yes, he was getting better; Dean was making him better in ways that he wasn’t sure he even understood.

“Good. So we don’t have to worry about that anymore. Now, creative sharing time.” She opened up a folder and pulled out several pieces of lose leaf paper. “I didn’t have time to type them up. Sorry.”

Cas took them from her and perched himself cross-legged on the dryer. Jo joined him and took a seat on the top of the washing machine.

He read over words about monsters and fire and giant teeth and bleeding hearts and golden-eyed demons that were so eloquently put that there was no denying the meaning of what he was reading. Dark and disturbing though they were, they were really incredibly written and Cas wasn’t sure what to say when he finished.

“They were horrible,” Jo guessed, covering her face with a hand. “I knew it, I—“

Cas reached out and grabbed her wrist—which was undeniably unusual for him—and spoke sincerely. “Jo, these are really good. I mean, the way you use your words… _gnarled nails and rotting limbs…treasure hunters scratching the corners of his eyes…black dye dripping, feeding festering flames_ …it’s amazing.”

“You really think they’re decent?” Cas never thought he’d see Jo so insecure, but here she was, like she was revealing part of herself she usually kept completely buried and hidden from everyone, and she was so exposed but beautiful beneath the light of his complement.

“Did I say decent? I’m pretty sure the words ‘really good’ and ‘amazing’ came out of my mouth.”

She beamed even brighter while simultaneously curling into herself.

“Have you sent them out anywhere?” Cas asked.

“What? No. Who would want to publish these?”

“I would,” Cas said seriously.

“Well, when you start a publishing company, have at it. Let’s see yours now,” she said.

He reached down, grabbed the canvases, and gave them to her.

“Oh my God,” she said after a few seconds of looking at the first one. “How long have you been drawing for?”

“Pretty much since I could use a pencil,” he admitted.

“You’re like da Vinci or something.”

Cas warmed at the excessive compliment, big-shoed as it was. When she got to the nightscape Dean said she’d like, her eyes got a little bigger. “I love this one,” she breathed.

“It’s yours,” Cas said.

“What?”

“I don’t need it. Take it if you want. Take all of them.”

She went to the next one and laughed. “Even Mr. Nude?”

Cas shook his head. “Dean made me bring that one.”

“It’s really good,” Jo said. “I just don’t know how my mom would react to a naked guy on my wall.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is currently unbeta'd, but i wanted to put it up because it took longer to write than I thought. Typos will be fixed later, so you can wait or read now.  
> Edit: Apparently Heidi didn't catch any typos that needed fixing. So yay!

Dean woke up Monday and almost didn’t get out of bed. Break had been so nice, and now school was back. Christmas break was too far off, and if he focused on that, he’d have to think about semester finals. When had he started caring about schoolwork?

Sam had gotten home Sunday night around ten, after everyone had left and Dean had dropped Cas off at his house. His little brother filled Dean in on all he’d done with Jess and her family and Dean was painfully reminded of how not-normal their family was.

“Dean, come on!” he heard Sam yell from downstairs. “We’ve got to get to school!”

Dean groaned and forced himself to get up. He’d see Cas if he got up. And Anna, Gabe, and Balthazar.

 

When Cas got into the front seat, Dean leaned over to give him a kiss. (Maybe the weekend had spoiled him a bit.)

“That’s cute,” Sam said, “but why don’t you two save it for later.”

Dean took a moment to say, “My car, my rules,” and finished kissing Cas.

“You’re in a good mood,” Cas said.

“I haven’t seen in you in ten hours, and now here you are. Of course I’m in a good mood.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “Everyone needs time by themselves. It’s good for you.”

“Don’t go transcendentalist on me,” Dean said.

“At least you’ve been doing your homework.”

“Yeah, well, once everybody left, there wasn’t much to do until Sam got back.”

 

When Dean and Cas walked through the school doors, it took approximately seven seconds for every set of eyes to be on them.

“ _Dean_ ,” Cas whispered.

“I don’t know.”

If he knew exactly _why_ they were staring, he’d take Cas’ hand, but since there was the possibility they weren’t staring because Cas and Dean were together, Dean would respect Cas’ want to keep them a secret.

At their lockers, the staring wasn’t any better.

“Do you think they know?” Cas asked.

“Who would’ve seen us?”

Cas looked even more nervous, so Dean said, “Hey, chill. Maybe it’s from what happened with Lilith before break.”

Cas shook his head. “That staring’s well over-due. And that’s more of a hushed whisper thing.”

Dean was once again reminded of the weirdness of this damn school.

“Maybe I should go home—“

“No, you’re staying here,” Dean said. “Running away doesn’t do any good.” Dean glanced past Cas. “Why the hell is Lucifer coming over here?”

Cas momentarily froze. “Do I have time to walk away?”

Dean shook his head.

Lucifer stopped by Cas. He cast Dean a brief look before crowding Cas up against the lockers. Anger boiled up inside Dean at seeing Cas treated that way, but Lucifer wasn’t doing any real harm. Dean could hardly throw the first punch without reason—He said something too quiet for Dean to hear and Cas turned whiter than he already was.

“Hey.” Dean shoved Lucifer’s shoulder, pushing him away from Cas. “Why don’t you find a new puppy to kick around.”

Lucifer laughed. “Oh, Dean. Castiel is no puppy, I assure you. In fact, he used to be quite the attack dog. Am I right, Castiel?”

“Why don’t we get out of metaphor city and you tell me what you’re talking about?”

“I don’t know, I rather like it here. You don’t belong here, Dean. You jumped in bed with the wrong people. You could’ve gone with anyone, but you picked _this_ guy and his ex-besties.”

And Dean knew—he _knew_ , damn it—even if it just sounded like a snarky, sarcastic comment. He knew Lucifer knew. “You stupid son of a bitch. Just because your brother died, you think you get to start an all out war and have an innocent bystander take all the beatings?”

Lucifer shoved Dean up against the lockers. “Dean Winchester, this place is criss-crossed with so many fine lines that your raisin brain won’t ever figure it out, so why don’t you just keep your mouth _shut_ , hm? It’d be better for everyone.”

Despite being held up—rather painfully—against a row of lockers, Dean couldn’t keep his mouth in check. “Go to Hell.”

Lucifer grabbed ahold of Dean’s jacket and threw him across the hall. People were leaving them plenty of room. “So you show up here and in a few months you think you know everything there is? You don’t know _anything_. You’re an outsider in this town. Your brother is, too. Don’t think I don’t know about Sam, Dean. The younger kids might get along now, but that won’t last. And your Dad? What’s he really doing here, Dean? Hunting down Mommy’s killer? She’s dead, and she’s not coming back.”

 _That_ was the last straw. Dean launched himself at Lucifer and they hit the ground hard. He landed one solid punch before Cas grabbed his arm.

“Dean, stop.” Cas’ voice was impossibly quiet, but it was enough. Dean let himself be pulled back.

“Don’t you _ever_ talk about my mom like that again.”

Lucifer wiped blood from his lip and grinned.

Cas let go of Dean’s arm once he turned away from Lucifer.

“That guy is such a _dick_ —“

“Forget it, Dean.”

Cas was still white and Dean noticed his hands were shaking. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t respond, so Dean grabbed his arm and spun him around. “Cas. What did he say to you?”

“He—nothing. Don’t worry about it. I’ve got to get to class.”

“Cas, the only thing you’re missing is the seven dwarves. What is it?”

Cas shook his head. “I’m just going to lie, Dean. And you know when I’m lying. So leave it.”

“Fine. But what did he mention when he said you used to be an attack dog?

“I don’t know.”

Dean lost count of fake truths.

 

* * *

 

Cas could feel everything slipping through his fingers and he’d known this would happen from the start, but he didn’t want it to happen _now_.

Anna sat by him in Historical Lit and asked, “What’s going on?”

“Dean and Lucifer almost got into a fight,” Cas said.

“Why?”

“Lucifer…said something to me. Why was everyone staring at us?”

“Somehow somebody found out about the get together at Dean’s house.”

“About me being there all—“

“No, no, no. Just the weekend. All of us. And, this is ironic, but, they think you and me are dating.

Cas put his head down. “I quit,” he said into his arms. He raised his head barely to look at her. “So they were staring at me and not Dean. And you got the same?”

She nodded.

“I can’t believe this.”

“It’s fine,” Anna said. “They’ll realize it’s not true eventually.”

“Dean’s going to find out,” Cas said, and Anna knew he wasn’t talking about the rumor.

“Do you want us to tell him if he asks?”

“I don’t know,” Cas said. “Do whatever you think you should.”

She gave his hand a comforting squeeze. “We’ve all made mistakes, Castiel.”

_I’m just exceptionally good at it._

 

* * *

 

In painting, Cas got to listen to Dean complain about the school’s social structure again. Granted, it had been a while since he’d whined about it, but still. He supposed he wouldn’t get to hear it many more times, so he listened attentively.

“Michael could fix this,” Dean said. “He’s basically right under Zachariah, right? And he’s not anymore likable, but he is less hate-able.”

“His parents told him to stay away from Lucifer after the accident,” Cas explained. “Keeping himself disengaged is his way of being a good son.” He extended a tree branch from a trunk.

Dean was quiet for a few minutes before dropping his paintbrush in the cup of water. “I officially declare myself a terrible artist.”

“Dean—“

“Nope. I’m serious. I’ve been here three months and I still suck.”

“But you haven’t taken any art classes before this. It’s not bad—what are you painting?”

“My old house,” Dean said.

“Do you miss it?”

“Lawrence? Nah. I miss my friends, but the town’s just your basic, everybody-knows-everybody place. There’s not much to miss.”

“But you miss her.”

“Yeah,” Dean said quietly. “I do.”

“Here,” Cas said, reaching over Dean to grab his paintbrush. “You didn’t sketch it out first, but I don’t think you need to. See how all your colors are flat so far? You need to add contrast. And don’t be subtle about it. Your grass has really nice texture, but you only used one green.” Cas reached over Dean again and added some yellow to the green already on the brush. He demonstrated on a piece of scratch paper. “See?”

Dean didn’t say anything, but watched, waiting for more instruction.

“Roofs aren’t just one color,” Cas continued. “They have highlights and shadows like anything else. Where’s your light source?”

“Uhh…the sky?”

“Pick a place,” Cas said, ignoring the sarcasm.

“Here.” Dean pointed at the upper left hand corner of his unpainted sky.

“Alright, so think about how the shadows would fall and what parts would receive the most light. That’ll give the shingles more definition.”

“What about the tree?” Dean asked.

“The most important thing about trees,” Cas said, “is they’re alive. They have knots and flaws and scars and they’re imperfect. Kind of like people. You drew a Barbie tree. A warped, unrealistic expectation, but one that people immediately fall to because it looks nice. What was the tree like? Really think about it. You’ll probably want to bring a picture next time.” He handed the brush back to Dean and their fingers brushed.

“Is your dad home today?” Dean asked.

“He leaves at four.”

“Can we just hang out in your room until he leaves?”

Cas bit his lip. “Umm…I guess. I’ll have to ask before you come in.”

“Okay. I’ll drop off Sam first.”

Cas wondered if he’d luck out and his dad would leave early or be in a rare good mood.

“Are you coming to Econ?”

“You’d just drag me there if I said no,” Cas said lightly.

“Fair enough. But, Cas, I don’t want you to let me make you do stuff. You can make your own choices.”

“I know,” Cas said.

 

Stares at lunch were plentiful, but they were already lessening. People were beginning to see that Cas and Anna were obviously not an item.

“What an ironic situation,” Gabriel noted.

“Anna Novak does have a nice ring to it,” Balthazar mocked.

“Anna Novak is an algebra teacher,” Anna said.

“And Anna Milton is the farmer’s daughter that takes her cow to the state fair every year,” Balthazar shot back.

“Friendly reminder that Anael Milton is a fierce warrior princess that can kick your ass,” Gabriel said.

“Anael?” Dean questioned.

“That’s her full name,” Gabriel explained. “But she doesn’t like to come off as pretentious.”

“I don’t see why not,” Dean said. “Gabriel, Balthazar, Castiel, Zachariah, Lucifer. There are two guys in my auto shop class named Inias and Samandriel. Anael doesn’t seem that bad.”

“I just like Anna,” she said, closing the subject.

“There’s some new scifi-action movie coming out on Friday,” Gabriel said. “We should go see it.”

“Not if it’s like the last one,” Balthazar said. “I can’t believe you made me sit through that.”

“Okay, so it wasn’t the greatest film ever. But this one looks really promising and we should all go.”

“I’ll keep my calendar free on Friday,” Dean said.

“I’ll come if we go out to eat first,” Anna said.

“I might come, too, then,” Balthazar said.

“Alright, we can get some food first. Castiel, are you coming, too?”

“Of course,” he answered.

The dismissal bell rang and they were off the third block.

“On the bright side, there’s less than a month left of this class,” Dean said, grabbing his notebook out of his locker.

Cas hadn’t thought about that. What would happen when Mr. Roman wasn’t his teacher anymore? Maybe that would end it…

“Hey—where’d you go?”

“What? Oh. Just thinking,” Cas said.

“Well, let’s drift to class now.”

“Dean,” Cas said, walking in-step beside him, “don’t start anything with Lucifer, okay? He’ll crush you, if you do.”

Bela walked by them, head high, and stopped in front of him before Dean could respond. “Castiel. I’m surprised Lucifer hasn’t had your head yet.”

“I could say the same to you.”

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “You’re a feisty little fellow today.”

“I won’t take insults from you.”

“Really? You’re no better than me, Castiel. Don’t forget that.”

“I never stole,” Cas defended himself.

“That money wasn’t legally obtained to begin with,” Bela waived. “And I needed it.”

“Your parents have plenty,” Cas said.

“Don’t talk about what you don’t understand,” she hissed. “Tell any other secret abut me and I’ll tell a few about you.”

Not as if she knew any, but Cas had no doubt she could find plenty. It wasn’t as if he knew anything else he could use against her anyway. “Have a nice day, Bela.” And he continued on his way.

“Cas,” Dean said about halfway down the hallway, “if you were like that all the time, no one would bother you.”

Castiel didn’t vocalize that the others were above him. Bela was a liar and a thief. Castiel was just a liar. “I’ve only got a year and a half left,” he said, continuing down the mostly empty hall. “I’d like to make it out with minimal damage.” Of course, it was already too late for that.

“It was also kind of hot,” Dean said, lowering his voice. And if they weren’t in a school full of people, Cas would’ve kissed him.

 

Mr. Roman asked Castiel to come in after school to discuss a make-up date for the test he’d missed before break. Cas didn’t go. Dean wasn’t waiting for him because Cas had told him not to bother; Dean had heard when Mr. Roman said to come after school. As far as Dean knew, Cas was talking to him right now. What he was actually doing was taking a detour through the school as to avoid Mr. Roman’s room.

A pencil hit his shoulder, and it came from Lucifer. Castiel froze mid-step, waiting for the bomb to drop.

“Dean should never have picked you,” Lucifer said. “Of all the people in this school. Did you warn him to stay away? I doubt that you chose to befriend him.”

“He’s stubborn,” Cas said simply.

Lucifer smiled in brief amusement. “Have a nice day, Castiel.” And he stepped aside to let him pass.

Dean was waiting in the car when he got there. “Ready?”

Cas nodded.

They dropped Sam off first, then came back into town.

“Can we go to the park instead?” Cas asked, deciding against chancing his dad.

Dean complied easily. “Sure.” He switched off his turn signal and continued straight.

Once there, the two got out of the car and began walking at a leisurely pace, close together enough for their fingers to occasionally brush. Cas could tell him. Cas could tell him everything right now.  He could…but he wouldn’t. It didn’t matter who Dean heard it from, Castiel would still be a traitor. Best to just enjoy being with him while he still could.

 

* * *

 

When Dean got to his house, there was a note sitting on the table.

_Dean-_

_There was an accident and Jess is in the hospital. Dad’s taking me to_

_go see her. Don’t know when we’ll be back._

_-Sam_

All Dean could think was _shit_ , and why hadn’t he recharged his phone? He walked right back out of the house and drove back into town to the hospital. Once there, he found Sam and his dad, Sam sitting cross-legged in one of the chairs in the waiting room. His dad gave him a sour look because Dean was obviously supposed to have been psychic and known this would happen and not have gone to hang out with Cas.

“What happened?” he asked, taking a seat by Sam.

Sam shrugged, but didn’t look at him, probably because he was trying not to cry. “Some idiot ran into her while she was crossing the street. She had just left Sarah’s house and she said that they didn’t even try to slow down. Like they did it on purpose.”

“How is she?” Dean asked.

“She’s in surgery right now,” Sam said to the floor.

Dean asked his dad, “How bad is it?”

John shook his head. “We don’t know. Bad enough for her to need surgery.”

“Sam, I’m sorry.”

His little brother shrugged again. “Not your fault.”

Two or three hours later, Dean lost track, a nurse came and said, “You can see her now.”

Jess’ parents were already in there, her dad out in the hall talking to the doctor and her mom in the room, holding her hand. When Sam came in, Jess made an effort to smile at him. “Sam. You didn’t have to come.”

“Well, I did,” he said shyly.

Jessica’s mom gave Sam a warm smile. “It’s very nice of you.”

“Do you feel okay?” he asked a small looking Jess.

“Yeah, I’m great,” she said. “I kind of feel like death, but I guess waking up from surgery after getting hit by a car will do that to you.”

“I’m so sorry,” Sam said. “This shouldn’t have happened to you.”

“It’s life,” she said, being way to light about it.

“Sarah said they didn’t even try to stop.”

“Yeah, the car came out of nowhere. I don’t know.”

“Honey, you don’t have to talk about it,” Mrs. Moore said gently.

“Mom, people get hit by cars all the time. It’s not a big deal. I’m fine. I’m not going to have panic attacks about it.”

And, wow, that was one tough girl. Dean was sort of shocked.

“Jessica, this isn’t a no-big-deal situation—“

“Mom, please. Can I talk to Sam?”

Her mom gave her a concerned, motherly look before saying, “I suppose. I’ll be right out in the hall with your dad if you need anything.”

“I’ve got buttons for that,” she joked.

Her mother left the room, smiling nervously at Dean and John.

“Sam, we’ll be outside, whenever you’re done,” John said.

Sam nodded in acknowledgement, and Dean held back a groan. His dad was going to bitch him out so bad. He counted the steps it took to travel the halls and through the waiting room and out to the parking lot.

“Where were you?” John snapped as soon as the door shut behind them.

“I was with Cas.”

“You left your brother at home.”

“He’s thirteen, he’s been home alone before.”

“His girlfriend got hit by a car and you weren’t there to take him to the hospital. You weren’t even answering your phone, Dean—“

“It was dead!” Dean said, voice rising, despite his best efforts. “Sorry my phone’s battery isn’t _immortal_ and also sorry I’m not fucking _psychic_!”

“Don’t use that language with me, boy. That kid is _your_ brother and it’s your job to watch out for him, not make out with your boyfriend—“

“Oh my god, _Dad_! We were at the park just _talking_. And, yeah, I’m his brother, and I feel bad that I wasn’t there, but you know what? You’re his _dad_ , it’s your job, too.”

“You, young man, can kiss goodbye to your life other than school.”

“Why, because I’m right and you won’t admit it?”

“Do you want to walk to school?”

Dean fell silent at that, because, one, Sam wouldn’t be too happy if his dad had to drive him to school, and, two, Dean was supposed to pick up Cas. (Just thinking about finding him after Uriel had gotten his hands on him enraged Dean, so, no, he wasn’t letting his boyfriend walk around by himself and if that made Dean an over-protective mom, so be it.)

“You go straight home, do you hear me? You leave for school in the morning and at three you drive straight back home. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Dean said, barely loud enough for John to hear, before walking to the Impala and getting in the driver’s seat. For a few seconds he closed his eyes and tried to calm himself. If he drove like this, he would probably severely mess up Baby. Once his pulse returned to normal, he twisted his keys in the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot, making a point of not looking to see if his dad had gone back inside or not.

Dean really knew how to fuck things up.

 

On the way to school the next day, Sam apologized for the way John acted. Which was ridiculous, because your little brother should most definitely not have to apologize for your dad.

“Please don’t beat yourself up about it,” he said. “I know how it goes. Dad yells at you for something that’s not your fault, you yell back because you know it’s not, and then you turn on yourself.”

“I won’t, Sam.” But Dean was a professional liar, though nobody’d ever guess. He’d been lying ever since his mom died, and, honestly, he’d never really stopped, which was probably part of the reason he let all the lies Cas told slip.

After dropping Sammy off, Dean told Cas about Jess.

“Who did it?” he immediately asked, his eyes burning with something between fear and conviction or maybe a mix of both.

“I don’t know.”

“But Sarah saw it happen, right? So she must’ve seen the car, or the license plate.”

“I guess, but she talked to Sam and Sam told me, so maybe she didn’t tell him or he didn’t tell me. I’m sure the cops’ll get whoever it was, though. This town isn’t that big.”

Cas hummed in a discontented response. “She’s okay, though?”

“Yeah. She made it seem like it was no big deal. It was weird.”

“As you’ve said, this whole town is weird.”

Dean looked to see if Cas was joking, but his expression was solemn.

They parted ways, but before Dean could get to Historical Lit, someone he’d seen hanging around Lucifer a couple times pinned him in a corner. “Crowley want’s to see you,” he said.

“That’s nice, but I’ve got places to be.”

The guy grabbed his arm and squeezed. “Right now, you’re going to see Crowley.”

Dean rolled his eyes, honest-to-God sick of this shit, and just gave in. “Fine. Take me to your leader.”

 

“Ah, Dean, glad you could make it.”

Dean dropped his stuff on an empty table as his escort left the room. “The teacher’s lounge? Really?”

Crowley shrugged. “The old one. They never come in here anymore, and it’s better than outside. It’s getting colder.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Dean retorted sourly.

“Glad your being observant,” Crowley shot back smoothly. “I brought you here to talk about your boyfriend, Castiel.” And Dean just rolled with it because he really, _really_ wasn’t in the mood. “I understand you kind of…latched onto him when you first got here. Granted, you knew nothing about this place, so who could really blame you? He was obviously at the bottom and it’s natural for you to recognize you wouldn’t just start out at the top—though, you actually might have been able to. You are an exception.” Dean didn’t bother to ask what the hell Crowley meant, but apparently he didn’t need to. “A private investigator for a father; everyone wanted you on their team.”

“Get to the point,” Dean snapped.

“The point is, you don’t know Castiel. Or—correction—you don’t know what he’s done.”

“And what’s that?”

“For starters, he’s a liar. I’m sure you’ve already figured that out, though, you’re not a complete idiot. But back when the lines were drawn, Cas couldn’t decide where to go. He tried to be friends with everyone, but that didn’t work out to well. Eventually, he was told to choose—by both Zachariah and Lucifer.

“Now, you know about Lucifer’s business, yes?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “So did Zachariah. Out of spite, mostly, and also because he’s just a dick, he wanted to bring Lucifer down. He told Cas to keep up pretending to be friends with Lucifer, but to relay information to him. On the other hand, he had Lucifer asking him to spy on Zachariah, to get some all the dirt on him he could. And poor, poor Castiel. The stupid chap did both.”

“So he didn’t want to hate anybody. That makes him a criminal?” Dean growled.

“No, not really. But it did make him a double-crosser. But I’m not finished. When Zachariah found out, he confronted Castiel. He gave him a chance to fess up. Castiel didn’t. Zach kicked him out and suddenly he had no more information to feed Luci. He was terrified he’d be left on his own—Balthazar and Gabriel still have open passes to rejoin Zachariah, though they’d never admit to it, and he wasn’t going to ruin it for them—so he joined Lucifer’s little business.”

“He sold drugs?” An ugly feeling began to stir in Dean’s gut.

“Yes, if you want to be blunt. But Lucifer saw he already had enough people dealing, so he…upgraded.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“He set your precious Castiel up with a little street corner a couple towns over. Sex in exchange for drugs, Castiel gave the drugs to Lucifer, he got a fair amount of money.”

Dean shook his head. “Bullshit.”

“Who can say if he wanted to or not, he never looked happy so it was impossible to tell a difference, but he did it and without complaint. Eventually though, Lucifer found out Castiel had been double-crossing him before and he shut Castiel out, too. And so went his descent. And—rumor has it he’s still whoring about. Have you noticed how often he gets called to stay after class in Mr. Roman’s?”

By this point, Dean’s pulse was far above where it should be. He’d been trying to reject it, but it made sense, damn it, and he hated Crowley for telling him, he hated himself for believing it, and he hated Cas’ actions for not doing anything to deny it.

“Why are you telling me this?” Dean snarled.

“I’m sick of Lucifer and Zachariah’s games,” Crowley said. “I aim to knock them both off their pedestals. I figured honesty would be a good way to go about it,” which was just a load of steaming crap because he had to be going behind Lucifer’s back to do this, but Dean didn’t say anything. Instead, he stormed out of the old teacher’s lounge and sat himself outside the gym doors. He’d forgotten his books, but he was too pissed to care.

How could he have been so _stupid_? He seen all Cas’ lies, but he overlooked them. And, for being such an outcast, Cas was great at sex. Dean should’ve been more skeptical about that. And Mr.-fucking-Roman, how could Dean have been so blind? Cas never wanted to go to that class. Of course he didn’t, he was screwing the teacher.

Dean’s thoughts ran in circles as the clock ticked away the minutes, and each circle of the hand, each loop of thought, made him angrier and angrier. By the time first hour was over, he was fuming.

When Cas came out of the gym, he looked surprised to see Dean standing there. Surprise quickly morphed into something else when he registered Dean’s expression.

“You lied to me,” Dean hissed, invading Castiel’s personal space. “I knew you were, and I let you, and that was so stupid.”

“Dean, I—“

“Don’t!” Dean snapped harshly, growing louder. “How many people did you fuck? That’s _sick_ , Cas! And the fact that you didn’t even tell me. And that’s not even the worst! You were _still_ …”

Cas ducked his head and closed his eyes, just taking it. He whispered something Dean couldn’t hear and he didn’t care. He didn’t care that he couldn’t hear it and he didn’t care that he was yelling and people were staring. “The fucking Economics teacher,” Dean said, voice lowering. “I can’t believe it.”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel whispered, eyes glued to Dean’s feet, voice perfectly even. Why would his voice be even if he cared about his and Dean’s relationship? He would be upset about this if he even gave half a rat’s ass. And after this weekend it made things all the worse.

“You know what, Cas? _Fuck. You._ ”

And Dean turned away and didn’t look back. He was sick of being hurt. He was sick of Cas’ lies, he was sick of his own lies, and he was sick of being hurt. He was done.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooooo!! Unbeta'd. No regrets. Look at all those lovely luscious paragraphs...so much bigger than usual, wow. I just wanna say thanks to everyone who stuck with this story for so long! And I'm not done yet, oh no. Up until now, most things have been about Cas. In the upcoming parts, there will be more Dean-focus. (: Anyhoo. Enjoy!

Castiel watched Dean walk away until he disappeared in the crowd. He’d known this would happen. He’d known it from the start and he was so, so _stupid_. Placing one foot very deliberately in front of the other, he walked through the crowded hallways and out the nearest door. He knew everyone was staring at him, but he didn’t care. He knew his dad’s trip had been delayed a day and that he’d still be home until this afternoon, but he didn’t care. Castiel just didn’t care.

The walk home was cold, biting through his jacket, and after a while, the numbness felt good. Castiel hadn’t felt numb since he’d met Dean and it was a welcomed feeling.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid. Hollow tears ran in warm lines down his cheeks, but he pretended he wasn’t crying.

It must’ve been Lucifer that told him. _Is it exciting, Castiel? Fucking your teacher?_ Lucifer’s words from the previous day rang through his head. Yes, it must’ve been Lucifer. Somehow he’d found out and of course he’d use the information to hurt Castiel.

He scratched at his wrists through his sleeves. He could see his house up ahead and he knew what was waiting for him and the numbness was already fading. He couldn’t remember how to hold on to it, couldn’t remember how he’d managed to bury himself in it before. Pain started poking at his insides and he blinked back more threatening tears. One foot in front of the other, one foot in front of the other. He supposed, if he wanted to, he could just lie down and wait for snow to come and bury him. It had to snow soon, it was plenty cold. But he kept walking because his wrists were itching and he was sick of himself. He wanted to tear his skin off, get rid of himself.

He let himself in and saw his dad in the kitchen, hanging up the phone. He spun around and Cas didn’t even bother to brace himself.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Cas said nothing.

“You don’t just walk out of school after first block because you want to, Castiel. And Mr. Roman emailed me last night. Apparently you’ve been skipping his class _again_ and haven’t made up a test you missed.” He shoved Castiel back, hard, and continued ranting. “And when exactly were you going to tell me you missed three days of school? Were you even sick? You’re a lying fuck, Castiel, don’t think I don’t know it. You know what you’re going to do? You’re going to walk yourself back to school and finish out the rest of the day. Then, you’re going to go make up that fucking test for Mr. Roman, and after that you can walk yourself straight back here.”

Castiel kept his eyes pinned on the floor, hands shaking slightly.

“Do you understand me?”

Nothing.

“Were you listening to _anything_ I just said?”

Castiel didn’t look at him. Not when his dad slapped him across the face, not when he pushed him, not when he grabbed his arm and threw him outside. Cas landed, hands and knees scraping the ice-cold pavement, in time to hear the door slam shut behind him. He picked himself up and started walking again. He started going in the opposite direction of school, planning to walk around until he knew his father would be gone. Three hours should do it. Maybe he’d catch pneumonia.

 

* * *

 

Dean ditched lunch. He didn’t want to hear what Anna and Gabriel had to say. Fortunately, Balthazar wasn’t at school today so he didn’t have to deal with him in Field Biology. He sat with his back pressed against his locker, but that just made him think about Cas, because his stupid fucking locker was _right there_ , so he had to get up and walk around.

He’d stopped shaking second block, but with nothing else to half-distract him, he found himself clenching and unclenching his fists angrily. How could he have been so blind? How could he have been so _ignorant_?

When lunch finally ended and third block rolled around, Dean considered just saying, fuck it, and going home. But then he thought about his dad being there and the ass-whooping he would get and he thought better of it.

He could feel Uriel looking at him for the next hour and a half and it was all he could do not to punch the dick in the face. After class in the hall when he made a snide remark, he did just that. Of course, Uriel hit him back, but Dean redoubled and punched him hard enough to send him to the floor. He walked away after that, knowing that if he let himself keep going he wouldn’t be able to stop. He forced himself to go to Auto Shop, which had suddenly become Everyone-Stare-at-Dean-and-Whisper class, which just about drove him fucking insane. By the time the day was over, Dean just wanted to throw himself onto his bed and say screw consciousness.

“Could we stop at the hospital?” Sam asked as he climbed into the Impala. “Since we’re alrea—Dean?”

“Just don’t ask, Sam.”

“Where’s Cas?”

“I said, don’t ask.”

“What happened?”

“How long do you want to visit Jessica for?”

“Um…I can have Dad bring me in later if you want to go home—“

“Just answer the damn question, Sam!”

His little brother cringed, making Dean feel like a total dick. “Shit, I’m sorry, Sammy. I just—“ Dean rubbed his eyes. “I’ll take you to the hospital, okay? We can stay as long as you want.”

Sam didn’t say anything, but he nodded, so at least he didn’t hate him.

At the hospital, Dean let Sam go in alone while he waited in the parking lot, sitting on the hood of the Impala. If anybody was going to listen to him bitch and moan—and, honestly, he had a right—Jo would. He called her and she picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, Dean. What’s going on?”

“Everything sucks,” he said, not wasting any time getting to the point. And from there, he launched into the story of what Crowley had told him and how Cas was a lying fuck and how much he hated him for it and how he despised everything about this stupid fucking town and the stupid fucking people and fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Wait,” Jo said. “How is Cas?”

“How is Cas? _Seriously_ , Jo? He was screwing a teacher and he was pretty much a fucking hooker and you’re worried about _him_?”

“Dean,” she said calmly. “Everybody fucks up. Is Cas not allowed to? Because, newsflash, he doesn’t exist just to make you happy and you haven’t even known him a year. Not even half a year. Now, tell me, how did he react?”

Dean shrugged, which was stupid because Jo couldn’t see him through the phone. “I don’t know. I don’t care. I walked away and he just stood there.”

“You had to have seen him again,” Jo said, an undercurrent of something Dean couldn’t identify entering her voice.

“Well, I didn’t. People were saying he left school.”

“You have to go see him.”

“What? Jo, seriously, I called you for some support or something and you’re siding with him?”

“I’m not picking sides!” she snapped. “I don’t think you have any idea how messed up he is. He’s so hurt, Dean. And…and I thought he was getting better, but now I don’t know, and it was probably really idiotic of me to think that you were helping him heal because you can be such a fucking _jackass_ sometimes.” Before Dean could jump in, she continued. “And I get that it hurts, okay? I get that it’s painful, finding out someone close to you has been lying to you and doing things that are wrong. But do you even know the whole story? Did you even give him a chance to explain? I mean, Crowley doesn’t seem like the best person to trust. He probably told it to you twisted and one-sided at best and that is _not_ fair to Castiel. So I need you to go to his house, right now, and make sure he’s okay. I don’t care if you still hate him or if you never talk to him again, just _make sure he’s okay_.”

“I literally have no idea what you’re trying to get at.”

“I can’t tell you!” she hissed. “Just trust me. And if you won’t do it for him or yourself, then do it for me. ‘Kay?”

“You know what? Screw you, Jo.” He hung up.

Naturally, she would make him out to be the bad guy. Oh, yeah, it was _alllll_ Dean’s fault. He was supposed to look out for Cas, of course. Well, he had. And where had that gotten him? Swimming in a sea of stinging, bitter rage. And Dean might not be perfect, but he didn’t think he deserved this.

His phone rang and it was Jo and he ignored it. And the next. And the next. She eventually stopped calling, and that was when Dean’s gut starting nudging him. Maybe he should check on Cas…just to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid…but then his pride intervened. Why should he be the one to make sure Cas was okay? Castiel should be apologizing to _him_. But then again, what Jo had said…ugh. It didn’t make sense. What did she know that Dean didn’t? He glanced at the time. Sam had been there a good forty minutes…

Completely vexed by the past twenty-four hours, Dean grudgingly turned the keys in the ignition and sent Sam a text saying he was going, but to let him know whenever he was finished and he’d come get him.

 

* * *

 

Castiel stared at the razor blade between his fingers, blurred through his tears. It didn’t look as sharp this way. He pressed it into his skin harder than usual and crimson blossomed around its edges. His skin resembled a clean slate after he’d done all he could to get his scars healed up. Vertical, horizontal, right angle. Acute, horizontal. Horizontal, vertical, perpendicular. He kept his thoughts technical. He had to make the letters perfect. The finished work spelled out L-I-A-R. Because that’s what Castiel was. A liar. A worthless, pathetic liar. He yanked his shirt over his head and threw it against the wall. The fabric landed harmlessly on the cold tiles.

He carved little x’s all along his clavicle, cancelling himself out. _And that’s not even the worst._ How could Cas do that? How could he do that to _Dean_? _And that’s not even the worst._ How could he have been so selfish as to lie to him, when he knew Dean would find out, when he knew it would _hurt_ him…Castiel was a horrible person. He pressed the metal edge deep into his palm, disgusted with himself. _You know what, Cas? Fuck you._ His dad hated him. Dean hated him. If Anna, Balthazar, and Gabriel knew about Mr. Roman, they’d hate him, too. If his mother was alive…no. His mother wasn’t capable of hate, she’d been too good for that.

He watched red drops fall into the sink and run in little streams down the drain. Tiny cells, tiny parts of him that he’d never get back. He didn’t want to. Onto his other arm, he scratched _sorry_ , even though no one had any reason to forgive him.

Slipping his shirt back over his head—he didn’t want to leave a mess—he took a good, long look in the mirror. His too dark hair was disheveled. His eyes were far too blue and his skin too pale. He tried to imagine it totally white.

Cas dragged the blade down his arm, crossing out the word “liar” in the process, but he didn’t bother worrying about it. The cut was deep—too deep—but that was okay. He wanted it to be too deep. When he switched hands, he was shaking, and he remembered the way he dad had shook after Castiel’s mom died. Shaking and crying and shaking and yelling and apologizing and shaking. Then, of course, his dad learned how to be angry instead of sad, and everything started to slip even farther down. Castiel drew another line straight down his arm, splitting sorry in half, and dropped the razor blade in the sink. He crossed his arms over his chest and left the bathroom. Turned the lights off, shut the door behind him. He counted his steps as he walked to the room nobody had entered in years. His mom’s.

He closed the door and locked it, pulling on the knob to make sure. He stumbled to the bed, vision beginning to swirl. He curled into a ball and pressed his arms against his shirt. He wasn’t going to get blood on his mother’s bed. And then his eyelids…drooped…shut.

 

* * *

 

Dean’s gut had a knack for knowing things long before he did, and now that his insides were practically swimming as he hurried up Castiel’s driveway, he figured he definitely should’ve paid it more attention. The sky was already darkening with winter fast approaching and all the lights in the house remained off. At first he told himself that that didn’t mean anything because this was Cas and Cas liked being in the dark, but then he mentally kicked himself because, _Follow your intuition, dumbass._

He knocked on the door, not expecting an answer, and he didn’t get one. Cautiously, he opened the front door and let himself in.

“Cas?” No answer.

He checked the main rooms first, then Cas’ bedroom, but didn’t find any sign of him. He glanced in the bathroom, but, once again, no Cas. Dean’s heart was hammering, find him, find him, and that was when he noticed one of the doors was cracked open. Dean didn’t know what was inside and…had it been open before? No…no, Dean was sure it hadn’t. But he barely thought about it as he pushed it open and got the air knocked out of his lungs.

“Cas?” There was just enough light in the dark room to make out his small, still frame lying on a bed. Dean’s entire body was screaming at him by now, pulse slamming against his skin.

“Cas!” He ran over to him, grabbed his shoulder and turned him over to see the front of his shirt covered in blood and his forearms split open. ” _Shit_ , Cas, come on—“ He scooped Cas up and carried him into the bathroom. “Come on, buddy, don’t you dare do this,” he said as he propped him up against the wall. He snatched two hand towels and wrapped them around Cas’ wrists in makeshift tourniquets, tying them too tight, way too tight, but he was still bleeding and Dean wasn’t going to let this happen.

Dean slapped his face a couple times, and when he got no response, he got Cas into the shower. Keeping a tight grip around the skinny boy’s middle, he turned the cold water on full blast and sat them both down on the shower floor. Cas jolted into consciousness, but Dean kept his hold on him and whispered quiet words, some angry, some regretful and apologetic.

“Dean, let me _go,_ ” he snapped. “You’re not—you weren’t supposed to— _get out_!” He thrashed and kicked, trying to get out of Dean’s grasp. It was painfully easy to hold onto him; his attempts were weak, though he was obviously giving it all he had to escape Dean’s touch and that made Dean feel like such a _dick_. This was Cas, for god’s sake! His broken little bird that needed love and attention and he’d let some jackass twist everything around and how stupid did he have to be?

“Cas, _stop_ ,” Dean said, tightening his arms, but of course Cas didn’t, and Dean gave up trying to soothe him. He let his little bird thrash around until he tired himself out, and when Cas stopped fighting, he turned the cold water off. He pressed his face into Cas’ neck and rocked them slowly, back and forth, back and forth.

Eventually, Dean had to get them both out of the shower. Cas had become compliant, malleable in Dean’s arms. He took Cas’ wrists gently in his hands and observed the wounds. They definitely went deep enough to require stitches, but should Dean take him to the hospital? They’d probably put him on suicide watch or something and Dean really didn’t want that. He’d rather keep watch of Cas himself, rather keep near him. He had the first aid kit his dad had started making him keep in the trunk after he passed the Impala down to Dean, and Dean knew enough from having to fix his dad up when he was to stubborn to go to the hospital…he was confident he could stitch his little bird back together.

A line of red across the top of Cas’ shirt became apparent that Dean hadn’t noticed before. He pulled the fabric away from Cas’ skin and saw a line of little x’s cut all across his collarbone.

“Oh, Cas,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

His eyes remained vacant, his body a limp doll. Dean wasn’t sure whether he trusted Cas enough to leave him, even just for a minute to run out to the Impala. Decidedly, he picked him up and carried him to the front door. “Cas, wait right here, okay? I’m coming right back in, okay?”

Sitting where Dean had placed him against the wall, he remained unresponsive. Dean figured no answer was better than defiance, so he ran out to the car and grabbed the first aid kit out of the trunk. Back inside, Cas hadn’t moved from his place and Dean picked him up again and carried him back to the bathroom. His head sagged against Dean’s shoulder and all Dean wanted was to kiss away all the blood, all the hurt, and make him better. Who gave two fucks about what Crowley had told him? He and Cas could deal with that later, figure shit out then.

Cas’ shirt was totally ruined and Dean didn’t want to leave him to find scissors, so he ripped it off, not wanting to pull it over all Cas’ cuts. Of course, then he realized that either way he would have to slide it over Cas’s arms—where the worst damage was—but it was too late, so Dean, delicately as he could, removed the utterly ruined shirt.

He hadn’t been thinking properly—the tourniquet thing was a stupid idea; the towels didn’t stay tight and he hadn’t even tried just applying pressure first—and he loosened them the rest of the way and wetted one in the sink. In the cabinet, he found some rubbing alcohol and added a splash of that to the towel. He sat on the floor, pulling Cas’ back against his chest and wiped his arms down. The shower had done most of the work, but Dean wanted to be sure to avoid any chance of infection. Cas didn’t so much as cringe when the alcohol touched his skin and Dean wasn’t sure if that was a bad thing or if he should be relieved that it meant Cas wouldn't be wriggling around while he stitched him up.

With one hand, he cradled Cas’ head against him and with the other he cleaned the x’s running the length of Cas’ collarbone. Dean left a kiss behind his ear before opening the first aid kit and retrieving a needle and thread.

His dad usually just used whiskey, but there was a small bottle of anesthetic just in case. (And no, it had not been legally obtained, but there was no need to talk about that.) He gave Cas a small dose in one arm. The words etched on his arms weren’t as deep as the cut going straight through them. Dean didn’t think that part would need stitches.

As he worked, he noticed things he hadn’t before. Dozens of scars at various stages in healing trailed the length of Cas’ arm. What Lucifer had said the day before came unbidden to his mind. _This place is criss-crossed with so many fine lines that your raisin brain won’t ever figure it out._ Cas’ arms were like a map of every horrible twisted detail in this town and they were permanent, stuck there forever. How long had Cas been doing this for? How long had Dean been totally oblivious? If he hadn’t been holding Cas, he’d have wanted to punch something.

When he finished one arm, he injected a small dose of anesthetic into the other arm and carded his fingers through Cas’ hair for a minute, words dancing around on his tongue behind closed lips. Words that he’d never said to anyone except family, words that he probably hadn’t used since his mom died. But he wasn’t sure Cas would even hear if he said them in the state he was in, and Dean wasn’t so sure he was even ready to say them yet.

Sewing together the skin on the other arm was terrible. Cas had engraved “SORRY” onto it, and just having to look at it made Dean want to kick himself. He should’ve seen the way Cas was acting, should’ve known something like this would happen. And long before today. He should’ve picked up on how broken Cas was so much sooner. If you saw a bird limping along, unable to fly, you shouldn’t just think, _Oh, it’s fine. He must just be having an off day._ He should’ve seen the damage, should’ve recognized it…

A tear splashed onto Cas’ arm and Dean sniffed. He didn’t have a right to cry. Not now. Cas was the one that had filleted himself senseless.

Dean finished the second arm and patted the towel along both arms, cleaning any remaining blood and that stupid tear. He wrapped Cas’ hand, but he wasn’t sure how to handle the cuts on Cas’ collarbone. They weren’t particularly deep, but there wasn’t much skin to go that far into.

It was then that his brain chose to remember Sam was at the hospital. Thankfully, Dean’s phone was out in the car and not in his pocket where it otherwise would have been soaked and ruined. He scooped Cas up and carried him into his room. Maybe he could cover the other cuts with gauze or something…but first he had to call Sammy.

He used the Novaks’ home phone and Sam answered after the first ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Dean—“

“Oh my god, Dean, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even realize the time—“

“It’s fine, Sammy,” Dean said, and he must’ve been too quiet because his little brother immediately asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m guessing you called Dad and told him we weren’t home because I took you to the hospital?”

“Yeah…but, Dean, what’s going on?”

“Look, I…something happened with Cas, and I…I had to take care of it. But it’s worse than I thought, and I don’t think that…I think you’ll have to call Dad when you’re ready to leave, because I’ve gotta stay with Cas, okay?”

“What happened to Cas?” Sam asked, concern leaking through the phone and dripping out onto the floor.

“He just…something happened today and he didn’t take it too well. And, I know Dad’s probably going to flip shit, but if you could just let him know that it’s really serious and I need to stay here—“ Dean had to stop talking, or else his voice would crack.

“Yeah, Dean, of course. I’ll make sure he gets it.”

And, yeah, Dean had the best little brother ever.

 

The first night, Cas didn’t talk. He didn’t say anything when Dean lay down beside him. He didn’t say anything when Dean left kisses trailing across his shoulders, neck, and upper spine. Dean was pretty sure Cas didn’t sleep at all either, but at least he wasn’t trying to kill himself. Dean didn’t sleep much either. They laid in bed until about nine am, when Dean said, “Cas, can you get up? We need to shower and change clothes.” He didn’t answer, so Dean searched around the room for anything Cas had that he could wear. In one drawer, he discovered his old dark gray AC/DC shirt that he’d let Cas wear all that time ago. He considered wearing it himself, but decided he’d rather see Cas in it again. A few minutes later, he found an oversized black t-shirt and a pair of green plaid pajama pants that were long enough for him, and a blue plaid pair for Cas. In the time he’d been looking for clothes, Cas had sat up in bed. Dean grabbed his hand and Cas looked at him, blue eyes searing clear through Dean.

“Come on,” he said quietly, and Cas let himself be led into the bathroom.

Dean turned on the water and got Cas out of his pants and underwear first. While Dean stripped, he noticed Cas looking at the sink that had been covered with blood the day before.

“I cleaned it,” Dean explained. “Not a trace left anywhere.”

He took his hand again and they stood under the hot water together for several minutes before Dean grabbed the shampoo and massaged it into Cas’ hair. Cas began practically purring, body relaxing, and pushing his head against Dean’s hands.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” Dean murmured.

“I’m sorry,” Cas whispered as Dean sped the process of rinsing the suds out with his hands.

“ _Shhh_ ,” Dean hushed him.

Cas shook his head stubbornly and turned around to face him. “I just—I never meant for any of this to happen. All I wanted was to finish high school and get out, but then you—“ He fell against Dean’s shoulder, hot tears mixing with hot water.

“It’s okay,” Dean murmured. “It’s okay.”

By the time Dean turned the water off, Cas had collected himself and said, “What Crowley told you—“

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean said, hands on either side of Cas’ face. “Not now.” He passed Cas a towel and grabbed another for himself.

Dean was dressed, but Cas had just finished getting his pants on. “This is yours—“ he started to say, holding the shirt.

“Yeah. And you’re going to wear it. Arms up,” he instructed.

Cas lifted his arms above his head and Dean slipped the shirt over them, careful to avoid the stitches.

“Go back to your room,” Dean said. “I’ll bring you some food.”

“Dean—“

“No arguments.”

Dean watched Cas retreat to his room before he went to the kitchen to see what they had in the cupboards. He came back ten minutes later with two bowls of Campbell’s soup. He sat gingerly on the bed beside Cas, who sat up from lying down. They ate in silence for several minutes, the only sound the spoons occasionally hitting the sides of the bowls. Cas set his half-empty soup bowl on the nightstand and Dean did the same.

“I have to explain what Crowley said—“

“Cas, I get it. Whatever it was, he told it twisted at best, and I reacted like a total dick—“

“No, Dean. I need to…tell…someone.”

“Okay,” Dean said. “I’m listening.”

 

* * *

 

Castiel crossed his legs and placed his hands purposefully on his knees. “After the accident…lines were drawn quickly. Not everyone wanted to be split—most people didn’t—but they followed, because the Arch family had always been…popular. I thought that I could get away with staying friends, or whatever it was we were, with both. I never meant for what happened to…” He sighed, rubbing his palms on his legs a moment, then flinching, forgetting about his gauze-wrapped palm. “Zachariah came to me first. He said he’d noticed I’d been hanging around Lucifer and his crowd, and that I had two choices: I could never associate with Zach’s people again, or I could start feeding him information about Lucifer. See, by this point, Lucifer was planning on emancipating and there were rumors about him getting into drugs, but no one knew to what extent, so Zachariah wanted to know. And I didn’t want to lose half the people I knew, so I…I said yes. Said I’d ‘spy’ on Lucifer.

“It was about a week later when Lucifer confronted me. He told me that I could either feed him whatever dirt I had on Zachariah, or—well, there wasn’t exactly an ‘or’ with Lucifer. So that’s that.

“Then, of course, Zachariah found out about my…doubling. I don’t know how, I suppose it doesn’t matter. He kicked me out. He asked me to admit to what I’d been doing, but I couldn’t without betraying Lucifer and I was trying to…to stay loyal, to both, despite the hopeless situation. So I was kicked out. And once I was locked out, I had nothing more to tell Lucifer, and without that use for me—I’d already betrayed him once, and he’s not good with handing out second chances. But I didn’t want to be left alone, and I could corrupt Anna or Gabriel or Balthazar’s chances of ever being able to rejoin with Zachariah, so I…I asked Lucifer if I could help him with his business.” Cas swallowed and licked his lips. Talking this much without interruption was strange. “And for a short time, I did. But he already had enough people selling, so he gave me an option.

“He had enough drugs going out, but if he brought more in, then he could sell more in turn. But his whole goal was to make money, so he wanted to spend as little as possible.” Cas had been staring at his bed sheets the whole time, but now glanced up at Dean. He was staring at the wall with a hardened expression, and Cas wouldn’t blame him if he wanted to leave and never come back after this. Again. But this time for good. Cas looked down again. “When he first presented the idea, I said no. If I had to spend the next three years alone, then fine. But he…he threatened Anna.”

“ _What?_ ”

Cas cringed at the harshness in Dean’s voice. “Crowley didn’t tell you. Of course not, he didn’t know,” Cas said, mostly to himself. “He knew how close she and I were—we’d lived together for several years, after all. And he said if I didn’t do as he said, he’d use her instead.”

“Anna wouldn’t do th—“

“Lucifer had plenty of drugs, Dean. She didn’t have to be willing, or even fully aware. So I said yes. Again. I don’t know how long I offered my services. A month? Maybe two? I stopped keeping careful track of time. I can’t deny I didn’t get good money. It was a fair share of what Lucifer received. But I didn’t enjoy it. I swear, Dean, I didn’t even want to—but I figured better me than Anna, and—“ Cas stopped himself for a moment, getting his thoughts back in order. “Eventually, I told Lucifer I was done. My precise words were ‘screw you,’ actually. I suppose I should be glad he didn’t go after Anna after that.”

“Be _glad?_ No way, Cas, th—“

“I’m not done yet,” Cas said. “I suffered through the rest of that year, but sophomore year…I had Mr. Roman in class for the first time. He kept me after one day and I didn’t know why, but then he shut the door and…and he…and…”

“Cas, come on, buddy, please,” Dean said, reaching a hand out. “You don’t have to—“

“Don’t touch me!” Cas snapped, curling away from Dean’s touch. “Let me finish. He must’ve heard about what I did the year before somehow, and he threatened to tell my father. I begged him not to, and he…well, you know. After the first time, he never directly said he’d tell my father again. Instead, when I started skipping class, he would use that against me, or slipping grades. But if I pushed it too far, I knew what he knew about me, so I couldn’t…”

“Cas, why didn’t you just tell your dad right away,” Dean said gently.  
Cas snorted. “Have you met my dad?”

“Sure, he seems…kind of like a total ass, but still, he’s your dad, he’d understand.”

Cas shook his head. “You don’t get it,” he said quietly.

“Then tell me.” Dean looked at him with those big, earnest, summer green eyes, like he really wanted to understand, and he already knew everything else. Why did it even matter anymore?

“You saw my hands and knees were scraped?” Cas asked, somewhat rhetorically.

Dean nodded. “It looked like you fell on the pavement or something.”

“And you saw the bruise on the back of my shoulder?”

“Yeah. I didn’t think much of it. I thought…I…” Dean’s voice faded as realization visually washed over his features. “You mean…?”

All Cas could do was shrug.

Dean pulled Cas against him and wrapped him up in his arms. Castiel wanted to say it wasn’t a big deal, he was used to his life, it didn’t matter, but then he realized he was crying and he wound his arms tightly around Dean and buried his face in his neck because _Dean was still here._

“You don’t—hate me,” Cas choked out, clinging to Dean with everything he had.

Dean held him tighter yet. “I could never hate you, Cas. Not if you started World War III or worked for the mafia or started the fucking apocalypse, do you understand? Never. Jesus, I’m so sorry. I should have never…” And then Dean was crying, too, and they were clinging to each other like they were all they had left in the world. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because cliche rain kissing scenes are cliche.  
> & have a little Anna-background. I'm thinking about doing a couple little Anna/Jo ficlets to go with this later. Just a possibility.  
> EDIT: I posted this late last night unbeta'd, but I just now went through and fixed a couple things I caughtt. Any remaining mistakes are my own, take it or leave it.

It was maybe three in the afternoon on Thursday and they were still lying in bed, Cas’ soft breath tickling Dean’s shoulder. Dean nuzzled the tip of his nose into Cas’ hair, trying to figure something out. “Cas. I called Jo yesterday, she said…she knew. She had to have. How?”

Cas turned his head up to look at Dean. “Remember when you took me, Anna, Gabriel, and Balthazar to Lawrence?”

Dean smiled. “Feather boy.”

“Yeah, feathers. After the movie, when I went up to get a drink with her, when she spilled on me. She pulled my sweatshirt off before I even had time to react.”

“She’s known since then?”

“I asked her not to tell. When they came over Thanksgiving break, I…my arms looked much better. I didn’t want you to see, so for that week I kept my arms covered in Neosporin. When she saw them, she thought I’d stopped.”

Dean pressed a kiss to Cas’ temple. “But you’re done now, right?”

Cas didn’t want to promise anything, but he didn’t want to disappoint Dean either. “It’s…hard. For that week when I couldn’t…I was itching for it most of the time. I didn’t realize how much…how _addicted_ I’d become to it until there was something keeping me from it.”

“Well, when weren’t you thinking about it?” Dean asked.

Cas met his eyes earnestly. “When I was looking at you.”

“Then you’ll just have to look at me more,” Dean said before placing a gentle kiss on his lips. Cas smiled against it.

“I think I can do that. But I have a question. How did you get into my mother’s old room?”

Dean sat up, pulling Cas with him. “What do you mean?”

“I locked the door, Dean. I pulled on it to make sure. You couldn’t have gotten in without breaking down the door.”

The other boy’s brow furrowed in confusion. “It was cracked open. The door, I…it wasn’t when I first passed it, but then it was.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Cas said.

They were silent for several beats, then Dean said, “It doesn’t matter. You’re here now, safe. Maybe it was some kind of miracle.”

Cas remembered a time when he’d thought miracles were possible, when every touch didn’t come with a sting, every word didn’t bite like an icy wind. Maybe with Dean…maybe things could be different. They already were, really. But maybe it could get better, maybe Cas could truly heal instead of just feeling less terrible whenever he was with him.  “Maybe it was,” Cas said, partially to himself.

“You know, you still need to draw me like one of your French girls,” Dean teased after a moment.

Cas smiled coyly at him. “What are you doing this weekend?”

Dean kissed him again and Cas was slowly stopping with the constant worrying that Dean would get tired of him one day and leave. He was here to stay, and Cas was believing it more and more.

They curled up under the covers again and dozed like a couple of cats. Sometime in the middle of the night, Cas came into consciousness and felt Dean tracing lazy circles on his back. He stayed still, enjoying the gentle brush of fingers through his shirt. The patterns slowly morphed into other shapes and Cas found himself paying more attention to the specific lines and curves Dean was making. He recognized them as letters and when he realized what they spelled, it felt as if every cell in his entire body started spinning and dancing because this was new, they’d never said this, Cas hadn’t heard it in so long, but saying the words came easily and they were spilling out of his mouth before he could stop to think.

“I love you, too,” he said, turning his head to face Dean.

He looked surprised that he was awake, and Cas said it again, half to make sure he’d actually spoken it out loud the first time and that Dean had heard him and half because he could and he wanted to and _he loved Dean._

Cas adjusted himself so he was leaning up on his elbow and arched his neck to reach Dean’s lips. His hands came up to cradle Cas’ head and everything was careful careful careful and Dean loved Cas, Cas loved Dean, Dean loved Cas.

Dean sank back down into the bed and Cas slid a leg over him, lips never straying from him.

“Cas, you’re still—“

“I know.” Cas knew he was still in bad shape, and he didn’t care if they had sex or not, he just wanted to cover Dean with kisses, to touch every inch of him, to erase any trace that anyone else had ever been there.

Cas’ lips fluttered against his skin, over his nose, tickled by Dean’s eyelashes that made him think of a soft summer breeze even with the gold and green of his eyes hidden behind closed lids. He moved down to his chin, along his jaw, made Dean giggle when he kissed his ear and Cas loved it when Dean laughed. He loved it, loved it, loved it, and he loved that Dean was laughing because of _him_. He moved down his neck, all the way out to his shoulder, then followed his clavicle back. To the center of his chest, then farther, then along his sides where he discovered a ticklish spot. Dean laughed and started fidgeting beneath him, struggling to keep still, but failing and ending up breathless from laughter.

He placed a gentle had on Cas’ chest and pushed him back, then put himself in a more upright position. Cas kept his legs folded beneath him and Dean kissed the hollow of his throat. “I love you,” Dean whispered, his lips ghosting over Cas’ skin, his fingers counting over Cas’ ribs.

They nestled back under the covers and Cas fell asleep smiling against Dean’s shoulder.

 

* * *

 

Dean came gradually into a state of consciousness, his eyes fluttering open. The room was dimmer than usual and he registered the pitter-patter on the roof that meant it was raining. Raining when it should be snowing. Ah, Midwest weather. He shifted his gaze and saw Cas bent intently over a sketchpad, hand and pencil moving deliberately, eraser tucked safely against his palm by his pinky and fourth finger. Dean watched him until he looked back at him and he dropped the pencil and eraser.

“Oh. You’re awake.”

A smile touched Dean’s lips. “You were drawing me.”

Cas frowned. “I—“

Dean laughed then, and sat up and planted a kiss on his cheek. “If I tell you I love you again, will there be a repeat of last night?”

“Not today,” Cas said. “We’re going out tonight.”

Dean gave him a funny look. “What?”

“Gabriel pulled everyone in to seeing that movie. Today is Friday. We’re going.”

“Are you sure you want to? I mean, you…” Dean wasn’t sure what to say. He was glad Cas wanted to go out, but just a couple days ago he’d try to kill himself.

“I haven’t seen them,” Cas said. “And neither have you.”

Okay, so that was true. And Dean did think it was weird that none of them had stopped by to check on Cas, but he didn’t want to jump to any assumptions.

“I want to go tonight,” Cas continued. “I want to have fun. With my friends. And I want to do something on Saturday, too, and maybe even Sunday. And then I want to go to school on Monday. I want to walk in there, through those double doors, holding your hand, and I’m not going to care what anyone thinks.”

Holy shit.

Holy shit, Cas was suddenly…whoa. “Cas…buddy, you still won’t be too good by Monday, I don’t want anyone hurting you worse. Maybe wait—“

“No,” he said stubbornly. “I don’t care about them. I cowered for years, and I’m done. And it isn’t as if they don’t already know after what happened.”

Dean couldn’t argue with that. “Alright, fine. If you’re sure.” Monday was three days away. Dean wouldn’t worry about it too much yet. “What time is it, anyway?”

“It’s almost noon,” Cas said.

Dean snorted. “The movie doesn’t start for hours.”

“I know. Lay back down. I’m not finished.

Dean sighed, but obeyed. He reclosed his eyes at Cas’ request and must have fallen back asleep at some point. When he awoke again, Cas’ face was hovering mere inches away.

“Hey,” Dean said.

Cas hummed an absentminded reply.

“What?” Dean asked, puzzled.

“I’m counting,” he mumbled.

“Counting what?” Dean got the feeling he wasn’t supposed to move.

“Your freckles.”

Dean blushed. People didn’t often notice his freckles and he counted that as fortunate. He didn’t remember Cas ever mentioning he’d noticed, but Dean supposed he’d seen them some time ago. All the same, he was suddenly very self-conscious.

“Stop blushing.”

“Stop counting my freckles.”

“No.”

The longer he stayed still, Cas’ eyes moving slowly over his face, the more he wanted to crawl under a rock.

“…Dean?”

“Hm.”

“What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer because it was stupid when compared to the shit Cas had gone through.

“Dean?” Cas moved his eyes to Dean’s and Dean rolled over, pulling the covers over his head. “I don’t like my freckles.”

Cas tried to pull the covers away, but Dean held them up. A few seconds later, Cas appeared underneath the covers, too, and he kissed the back of Dean’s neck. “I love your freckles.”

Dean shook his head.

“Okay. I don’t like how pale I am,” Cas said. “Especially next to you. And I don’t like that it’s practically impossible to tame my hair.”

Dean rolled back over at that. “Don’t be stupid. Your skin is perfect. And I love you hair and how there’s always pieces out of place and going the wrong way.”

“And your freckles are perfect, too.”

Dean frowned. “It’s not the same thing.”

“I only got to eighty-six,” Cas said.

“What?”

“Counting them. That’s eighty-six kisses from angels.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Freckles are kisses from angels,” Cas explained.

Dean remembered a time when he’d been little and there was a big storm in the middle of the night. His mom had come into his room and held him in her lap. “Angels are watching over you,” she’d told him. She would’ve loved Cas.

“My mom used to tell me angels were watching over me,” Dean confided.

Cas smiled empathetically. “Mine used to call me her little angel. I think they were a bit mixed up.”

“How so?”

“You’re the angel,” Cas said. “You saved me.”

Dean touched his nose to Cas’. “You saved me, too,” he said.

Cas closed his eyes as Dean pressed their foreheads together. “How did I save you, Dean Winchester?”

Dean wasn’t sure how to explain, wasn’t sure he even could. “You just…you just did.  After my mom…I had my dad and I had Sam. And it didn’t take long for my dad to start disappearing for bigger and bigger chunks of time. And I had my friends, and I could talk to them and we had fun together, but I…I didn’t want to bring them down, pull them into anything, you know? Then my dad came home one night and told me and Sam we were moving because he’d been getting business from Omaha anyway and it would be better and I just…I thought it would be horrible. Your school year had already started, but he wanted us to go to a good school, and I didn’t want to go, really, I didn’t want to leave Jo and all my friends, but then I met _you_ and you were just different and so apart from everyone here and I think I latched onto that in a way, maybe, now that I think about it.”

Cas was staring at him, like Dean was a jigsaw puzzle and he was trying to figure out what piece went where, which ones belonged together and which ones had to stay apart.

“Let’s go for a walk,” he said suddenly.

“A walk? It’s raining.”

“I have an umbrella,” Cas said. “I’ve been in bed for days, I want to go out.”

Dean shook his head. He was mystified by Cas’ sudden change in behavior, but he went along with it. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Cas grinned and threw the covers off both of them. In a matter of minutes, they were changed into jeans (Dean had washed the pair he’d worn there) and thick sweatshirts. When Cas pulled a blue one from his closet that read, “Come along, Pond” Dean raised an eyebrow. “Don’t look at me like that,” Cas said, and threw a gray one at Dean.

He retrieved and umbrella and they went out, a steady drizzle coming down. It was miserable weather, really, but Cas seemed to love it.

“I’ll need to go home and get some clothes before tonight,” Dean said as Cas opened the umbrella.

Dean pulled his hood up and then Cas’, because he wasn’t going to have him get sick.

“Will your dad be mad?”

“Maybe,” Dean said. “But Sam said he’d explain it to him—I didn’t tell him much, just that I needed to stay with you—and he hasn’t come by to drag me away yet, so that’s a good sign.”

“Should I come with you?” Cas asked.

Dean pondered this for a moment. “Would you mind waiting in the car when I go? Then I could call you in for back up if need be.”

Cas smiled. “I can wait in the car.”

Dean kissed him on the cheek. “I love you.”

Cas beamed and, _Of course_. Dean got it then. Cas needed love. He hadn’t received any in who knows how long, his dad certainly hadn’t told him recently, he’d been avoiding his friends in an attempt to protect them, his mom was dead, and he didn’t have anyone like Dean had Sam. No wonder he was suddenly so different. Dean saying—well, tracing first, but still—I love you…it was like he’d said three magic words, literally. And, in a way, it had been healing for Dean, too. He hadn’t said it in so many years, not since Mary died, not to his dad because that would make him seem soft, and not to Sam because Sam knew, of course he knew, and Dean actually admitting it to both Cas and himself, that was big.

“Let’s go to Anna’s,” Cas said.

“Do you _want_ to catch pneumonia?” Dean questioned.

“It’s not _that_ cold.”

“We can go back and get my car—“

“I said I wanted to walk, Dean.”

“Okay, okay.” He hoped Anna had food at her place. He hadn’t eaten yet today and it was almost three.

“Do you like this weather or something?” Dean asked at seeing Cas glance up at the sky and the turning up of the corners of his mouth.

“I like the rain,” Cas said. “The cold I could do without, but it’s not so bad.”

Dean enjoyed the rain, too, but the temperature cancelled out his liking for it at the moment. “And you’re sure about tonight?”

“ _Dean_ —“

“Alright, I get it! I just wanna make sure you’re sure.” He slinked his arm around Cas’ waist and hooked his thumb through the loop on the opposite side of Cas’ jeans. “You know, not having to sneak around all the time is gonna be fun.”

Cas whacked him on the head with the bar of the umbrella. “I can make it very _not_ fun,” he threatened.

“I think I could convince you,” Dean said, pressing a kiss just below his jaw.

“Doubtful,” Cas said, giving nothing back.

Dean pulled lightly with his thumb through Cas’ belt loop, bringing him to a stop and moving his lips closer to Cas’ mouth. He barely pressed a kiss to the corner of Cas’ mouth, and then Cas’s fingers darted out lightning quick to tickle Dean’s side. Dean slipped his thumb out of Cas’ belt loop in an attempt to protect himself as he fell into a fit of laughter.

“Cas—stop—“ he gasped, and Cas did stop. And took off running with the umbrella, leaving Dean to get soaked. “ _Cas_!” he shouted before taking off after him. It turned out the little bastard was a lot faster than Dean thought, zigzagging just out of reach whenever Dean got too close. After several minutes—both of them were now completely drenched; playing keep away from Dean didn’t allow the umbrella to do its job for Cas—a passing car slowed down. Dean stopped, immediately wary, but Cas just kept grinning.

The window began rolling down and Dean was tense and ready.

“ _Cassy?_ ”

“Hi, Balthazar,” Cas said a little breathlessly.

Balthazar turned to give Dean a _what the fuck_ look and he just shrugged.

“I know,” Cas said. “But I swear I’m not crazy.”

“If you’re not crazy, you’re stupid,” Balthazar said. “You’re both going to catch hypothermia and die. Get in. And I want to hear the story.”

“Can we go to Anna’s?” Cas asked, stepping closer to the car and to Dean.

“I don’t have any other arrangements today,” Balthazar said. “Just get in here before you freeze.” He pushed open the passenger side door and Dean got in the back, letting Cas sit in the front.

“Should I call Gabriel?” Balthazar asked. “I don’t think he’d appreciate being left out of the little loop.”

“Yes,” Cas said. “That’s a good idea. I still want to go see that film he was talking about. Are we still going out to eat beforehand?”

Balthazar glanced at him, like he was questioning if his head was on straight. “Cassy…why don’t you fill us in on what happened these past few days, then we’ll worry about tonight.”

Cas sighed. “I don’t suppose you’ll let me get out of this one?”

Balthazar looked at him fondly. “Not this time.”

 

Anna smothered Cas as soon as she opened the door, throwing her arms around him and leaving kisses all over his face. If it wasn’t Anna, Dean might’ve been a little jealous. She was like an older sister.

“Thank God,” she breathed. “I was so worried—when you didn’t come to school I wanted to stop by, but when I drove past Dean’s car was there, and I didn’t…I’m just so glad you’re okay.” She kissed him again, on the forehead. “You are, right?”

Cas smiled softly at her. “I am now.”

“Good. Come on in, you guys. My uncle’s working on Sunday’s sermon upstairs and my mom’s taking a nap downstairs.”

“Your uncle lives with you? And he’s a preacher?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, living together is cheaper. And not for any church in Omaha. There’s a small town a couple hours away he travels to every Sunday.”

“Huh. I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah. And don’t worry, he has nothing against same-sex marriage,” she teased

“Gabe’ll be here in a few minutes,” Balthazar said.

“He’s coming, too?” Anna asked.

Balthazar nodded. “Cassy here still wants to see that bound-to-be-terrible movie tonight.”

Anna raised a perfect red eyebrow. “I see. Well, I’m still up for it. But first I want to know what happened. We’ll wait for Gabe, though. Do you guys want anything? And why are you two soaked?”

“I, for one, haven’t had anything to eat yet today,” Dean said. “And _Cas_ thought it would be funny to play keep away with the umbrella.”

“ _You walked here?_ ”

“Started to,” Dean said, and at Anna’s reaction he added, “It was Cas’s idea.”

“Luckily, I found them wandering around—actually, running around.”

Anna led them to the kitchen and Dean took in the interior of the house. It was nice. Homey. Warm colors, wood fixtures, and an entire wall dedicated to a series of nature paintings and photos.

“Are those your mom’s?” Dean asked.

“The paintings are, yes.” She pulled a couple things out of the fridge.

“Not the photography?”

She pressed her lips together. “No.”

Balthazar rolled his eyes. “Anna takes the pictures,” he supplied.

Dean looked back to her. “I didn’t know you did photography either.”

“It never came up.” She shrugged, grabbing some bread, and set everything on the table. “Help yourselves.”

“Some of those look really good, though,” he said, stealing one last glance at the pictures.

“That’s why they’re framed, idiot.”

“Allow me to apologize for little fire-girl,” Balthazar said. “She’s a bit touchy about the subject. Her dad was a photographer.”

“Oh,” Dean replied lamely. “I’m sorry.” He really had no idea what had happened to her dad, but he didn’t think now was the time to ask.

Anna sighed. “Don’t be. You don’t know. He…he did a lot of work internationally. He was overseas taking pictures of soldiers in Iraq when…well.” She didn’t say anymore, and she didn’t really need to. Dean got it.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

As Dean was making his sandwich, someone let themselves in and seconds later Gabe appeared. “Greetings, children! I hear there’s news. Castiel, you look terrible. You, too, Dean. You know you’re supposed to dry off after you shower.”

“Do you two want any towels?” Anna asked.

“No thanks,” Cas said as Dean handed him a sandwich. Cas gave him a funny look, but accepted.

“I’m fine, too,” Dean said.

“Okay, then,” Balthazar said, leaning back against the counter. “Now that we’re all here, what exactly happened?”

 

* * *

 

“If you ever do something like that again,” Anna said, “I’ll kill you, I swear.”

Cas could scarcely breathe and felt suddenly guilty. Gabriel and even Balthazar wore pitiful visages. He’d really scared his friends. His friends. Who cared about him and wanted him to be happy and wanted to help him, but he’d never let them. He’d been so… _selfish_. But he’d do better now. He would do so much better this time around.

“I’m sorry,” he said, returning the hug.

“We love you,” she said, pulling away from him. “You know that, right? All of us. Even if those jackasses never say it.”

Cas nodded. “I know. But I’m okay now. Really okay.”

“Good.” She smiled in an attempt to counteract all the frowns. “So. I guess we’ll go see that movie tonight.”

 

“Hey.” Dean grabbed Cas’ arm just above the elbow. “Why don’t you go with them to…wherever they decide to eat. I’ll meet you guys there after I stop home.”

“Are you sure?” Cas asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “You should hang out with them. I’ll be fine for a few minutes.”

Cas smiled. “’Kay.”

Dean left a chaste kiss on his forehead.

“Come on, you lovebirds,” Gabriel said from the door. “Places to be!”

They stopped briefly at Cas’ place so Dean could get his car and Cas could change clothes, then they stopped by Balthazar’s. He’d announced in the car that he’d be paying for everyone. “Come inside a minute,” he said. “We can sneak in a few things.”

Inside, his mom was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, blonde waves held up by a claw clip, laptop resting on her legs.  
“Hi, sweetie,” she said without looking up. “Are you leaving or staying?”

“Going out,” he said. “Castiel, Anna, and Gabriel are here for a few minutes.”

She hummed in acknowledgement. “Your dad’ll be back Sunday morning and I’m leaving that night. Will I see you before I leave?”

He shrugged, heading upstairs. “Maybe.”

In his room, he opened his wardrobe—which he had turned into a liquor cabinet/food stash and moved his clothes onto his desk in lazily stacked and folded piles—and grabbed a flask and bottle. “Help yourselves,” he said.

As Cas scanned the shelves, he wondered for the hundredth time at Balthazar’s collection. Cas was pretty sure it rivaled his parents’. Anna grabbed a bottle of red wine and another flask. (He had accumulated at least half a dozen.)

“You drinking tonight, Cassy boy?” Gabriel asked him.

“No,” Cas said. “But Dean will probably want something.”

“I think B-zar’s taste is a bit too classy for Winchester. Or maybe…ah ha!” He reached up and handed a whiskey bottle to Cas. “I think that’ll work for him.”

Cas weighed the bottle and its options in his hand. One drink was just one drink…it couldn’t make that much of a difference…then he thought about his dad and how he’d probably started with ‘just one drink’ and decided against it. He grabbed a flask for Dean and poured some of the alcohol into it.

“So, Balthazar. How’s that nail polish treating you?” Anna asked, twisting shut the lid on her borrowed flask.

His features twisted into a hilarious scowl.

Gabriel smirked. “Just think about Adam. Tonight he’ll be dying his hair pink for his date tomorrow.”

“I’m counting on pictures,” Balthazar mumbled.

“It was part of the deal,” Anna said. “Jo said she’d send me some as soon as she dyes it. Everybody ready?”

 

They somehow ended up eating supper at a locally owned pizza place in a corner booth in the back. Cas texted Dean letting him know where they were.

At first he was nervous because, _what if they saw someone from school?_ , but then he remembered he didn’t have anything to worry about because he wasn’t a scared little bird anymore. _You shouldn’t let anyone put you in a cage._ Tessa’s words from that day in art class came to him. He had let himself be put in a cage. And then he’d cowered in the farthest, coldest, darkest corner and took whatever was thrown at him without a fight. He was done with that. So what if someone from school was working at this tiny pizza place in this tiny place in Omaha in the _Is that by Canada?_ state of Nebraska.

A boy he recognized—freshman or sophomore, he wasn’t sure—came to take their order. He’d seen him exchanging words with Naomi and Rachel several times, but from what he could tell their encounters had been brief and without depth. When Castiel saw his nameplate though, he knew it was wrong.

“Hey there…Alfie,” Gabriel said, glancing at the nametag.

“Oh, that’s not—“ He smiled to himself. “Never mind. What can I get for you tonight?”

Castiel spoke up. “That’s not your name.”

“Well, no actually, it— _Castiel?_ You’re okay! I’m so glad. Inias and I were worried when you didn’t show up for several days. After what happened…I’m sorry, it’s not my business.”

The group wore curious expressions at seeing someone other than themselves express genuine concern for Castiel.

“No, it’s fine,” Cas said. “Everything’s…fine now. I’ll be back to school on Monday.”

“Good, good,” definitely-not-Alfie said.

“If your name’s not Alfie, what is it?” Anna asked.

“Samandriel,” he supplied. “But it’s long and awkward and it’s required that all waiters and waitresses wear nametags, but I’m new here and they haven’t gotten one made yet, so I got a left over. Call me whatever you want.”

Anna smiled at him. “Samandriel. I like that name. It sounds familiar though. Have we met?”

“You might’ve heard about me from Hester—she graduated last year—Inias and I are her cousins. We just moved here a month or so ago, but we’ve been trying to stay…quiet, I guess. The school, it’s just a little…”

“The school,” Anna concluded, completely understanding. “Well, if you want some new company, come find us,” she said.

“Please,” Gabriel said. “You don’t seem like such a dick.”

Samandriel beamed at the awkward almost-compliment. “I’d love to.”

“Sanden! The order’s ready,” someone called from behind the front counter.

“Yes, sir!”

Balthazar gave him a piteous look. “Sanden?”

Samandriel shrugged. “He’s not the best with names. Do you mind? I’ll be right back—“

“Go on, scootch,” Anna said, waving a hand at him. “We’re waiting for someone anyway.”

“Nice kid,” Gabriel said as they watched him walk to the front of the joint.

They were halfway through ordering drinks when Dean showed up. Balthazar stood up to let him squeeze in beside Cas. Samandriel took in the seating arrangement silently.

“Hey, Samandriel. I didn’t know you worked here.”

He shrugged. “I filled out an application form for Pizza Hut, but walking in there felt like entering a warzone.” He adjusted his hat. “This place was smaller and I’m the only high school kid working here.”

Cas remembered Dean saying something about Inias and Samandriel being in his Auto Shop class.

“I’m glad you’re staying out of that shit,” he said. “And I’ll have a Coke.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

“He’ll probably be eating lunch with us Monday,” Anna informed Dean. “And his cousin.”

Dean nodded. “They’re not half bad, considering most of the kids here.”

“I like Samandriel,” Cas said quietly.

Everyone broke into slow grins.

“He’s even got the Castiel-stamp-of-approval,” Gabriel said.

 

They had a half hour to kill before the theater doors opened after they finished eating, so they hung out by Balthazar’s and Dean’s cars in the parking lot of the pizza place. Jo sent Anna a picture of Adam’s pink hair and the expression he wore didn’t exactly leave laughing optional. While they all guffawed at the photo, Cas thought he heard something though. He strayed from the group and towards the back of the building.

“Cas?” Dean jogged a few steps to catch up with him.

“Do you hear that?”

Just then, the definite sound of someone being slammed against a dumpster echoed through the chill November air and the group sprinted to see what was going on.

There were two bigger guys in jeans and dark sweatshirts waling on a smaller boy Castiel immediately recognized.

Anna didn’t even pause before charging one of the guys and shoving him to the pavement. The other guy went to get her off his abettor, but Dean jumped in and had him pressed against a wall in no time.

“ _Who the hell do you think you are?_ ” Anna growled dangerously. “Who are you with? Crowley? Lucifer? Meg and Ruby? If it’s Zachariah, you can tell him that Hester will be hearing about this.”

“Fuck you,” Samandriel’s attacker spat. “You’re with the scrawny queer—“

That was as far as he got before she pulled him up and slammed him back against the pavement. The breeze lifted wisps of her hair like dancing flames that made Cas subconsciously itch for something to draw with.

“Anna!” Dean snapped. “Careful.”

“Scrawny queer? Is that what you said? We’ll see who the ‘scrawny queer’ is,” she leered.

The guy Dean was holding against the wall struggled against his grip, but to no avail.

“Balthazar, Gabriel, come here,” Anna ordered. The two held him down as she said while she went about the process of removing his clothes. Gabriel kept a firm hand pressed against his mouth.

She left him completely naked, took his phone, and stomped on it until it resembled the way dry earth looked in cartoons.

Dean’s captive finally managed to get an arm free and land solid blow to Dean’s gut, the surprise of it sending Dean backwards. The hooded guy took off running, but made the mistake of going right past Castiel, probably thinking he wouldn’t do anything.

Well.

Cas swung his fist easily enough and landed a square hit to the nose of the bigger guy. The force of the punch whipped his head back and he hit the ground heavily. Cas glowered down at the pathetic sight, blood oozing out between his fingers covering his nose. “Scrawny queer,” he said. “Right.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ubeta'd! i'll go through and fix what mistakes i find sometime in the next 24 hours. enjoy!

“Nice job,” Dean said, getting himself up off the ground.

Cas looked over at him. “That felt good.”

The boy on his back moaned. “Ahhh…fuck…you broke my fucking nose.”

“Rub some dirt on it,” Anna said, making her way over to him.

She left both their clothes in a pile and knelt by Samandriel, Cas already having gone over to him. She took his chin gently in her hands. “They really got you, didn’t they? One of them had a knife with blood on it. Was that yours?”

He nodded, and Castiel gestured to where he was keeping a hand pressed to Samandriel’s side.

“Come on,” she said. “We should get you to a hospital.”

“No—“ He grabbed her sleeve. “Then you’ll get in trouble. And I don’t want to draw anymore attention.”

She gave him a sad smile. “You’re already on their radar.”

“If there isn’t any internal damage,” Dean said, “I could fix him up.”

“It’s a cut, not a stab,” Cas said, peeling his hand away to check. The blood was warm and sticky on his skin.

“Get him to the Impala,” Dean said.

Cas and Anna each lifted an arm over their shoulders.

“Time for you two to dumpster dive,” Gabriel said. He and Balthazar lifted the two perpetrators and tossed them into the dumpster they’d slammed Samandriel into. It didn’t sound very full when they landed.

“Things are escalating,” Cas said.

“When you two were gone Crowley broke off completely from Lucifer,” Anna explained. “Bela got beat up pretty badly on Thursday, too. She and Lilith hooked up again and Lucifer found out, so now Lilith’s getting the cold shoulder. There are whispers about people wanting to separate from Zachariah, too. The groups are getting smaller and if those dicks saw Samandriel talking to us it’s not as surprising as it would’ve been a few days ago that he got attacked like this.”

“This is like a gang war gone wrong,” Dean said as he opened the back door for Samandriel.

“Please,” Balthazar said, wiping his hands on his jacket. “I like to think we have a bit more class than a gang.”

“But a bit more betrayal,” Gabriel said. “Where are we going?”

“My mom and Balthazar’s are both home,” Anna said.

“My dad is, too,” Dean said. “Gabe?”

“No can do, relatives are visiting.”

“My house,” Cas said. “It’s empty as of now.”

“Let’s get moving,” Balthazar said. “Before those dicks get out of the trash. We’ll ditch their clothes on the way.”

“’Kay,” Anna said. “Meet us as Castiel’s.”

“Inias,” Samandriel breathed as Dean started the car, “he was supposed to pick me up.”

“We’ll tell him where to meet us,” Anna said, smoothing down his hair.

At Castiel’s house, she helped the other boy out of the car while Cas ran ahead to open the door for them and Dean grabbed the first aid kit out of the trunk. Balthazar’s car pulled into the driveway moments later.

“The kitchen has more room,” Cas said before Dean headed for the bathroom.

He nodded and Cas pulled out a chair for Samandriel.

“Somebody else is here,” Gabriel called from the door.

“It must be Inias,” Cas said. “Let him in.”

Anna helped pull Samandriel’s shirt over his head, muttering something about how he should be wearing a coat.

“Cas,” Dean instructed, “get me the alcohol from the bathroom, and a towel.”

He retrieved the two things and placed the bottle in Dean’s open palm seconds before the others came into the kitchen.

“Is he okay?” a vaguely familiar boy asked. Inias.

“I’m alright,” Samandriel ensured. “I’ll be fine.”

“This is going to sting,” Dean warned.

Samandriel nodded and Cas gave him his good hand to hold. This was basically his fault, after all. He was responsible. Samandriel hissed through his teeth and squeezed Cas’ hand when Dean dabbed the wound with the rubbing alcohol.

“Who did this?” Inias asked, cringing with his cousin.

Balthazar spoke. “They never said who they were with. Couldn’t say for certain.”

“Samandriel said they passed by and saw him being friendly with us. His shift ended and they jumped him,” Anna said. “You two aren’t on bad terms with Zachariah, and if this was him, Hester would be pissed. I’m guessing Crowley or Lucifer, but it could be Ruby and Meg, too. They gained some people after Crowley and Luci split, including Bela.”

“Bela? I thought she was shunned. Why _did_ Crowley break off?” Dean asked as he filled a needle with anesthetic.

“People are saying Crowley wasn’t satisfied with his portion of the income, but I think it’s deeper than that,” Anna said.

Gabriel agreed. “Alastair’s been acting weird lately and Crowley doesn’t trust him. I think he confronted Luci about it, but Azazel stepped forward and called him out. Lucifer’s been suspicious about Crowley for a while now, and after Lilith he hasn’t been very trusting of anyone. He sided with Azazel over Crowley.”

“That was some time ago, though,” Balthazar said. “My guess is he found out what was really going on with Alastair, didn’t like it, and instead of going to Lucifer again, he split.”

Inias looked between them all. “This place is insane.”

Dean smiled humorlessly. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“But no one knows what’s actually going on with Alastair,” Cas inferred.

Anna, Gabriel, and Balthazar shrugged collectively.

“Where did you learn to play Doctor?” Gabriel asked.

“My dad,” Dean said, hands moving skillfully, pushing the needle through the skin. “He’s a PI, and he doesn’t always go to the hospital when he should.”

“Huh,” Gabriel said, folding his arms. “It’s coming in quite handy this week.”

Dean’s eyes flicked fleetingly up to Cas. “Yeah, it is. Let’s not make a habit of it. I don’t want to have to sew any of you together like a ragdoll.”

He sat back when he finished. “There you go,” he said.

Samandriel glanced down at the stitched up cut. “Thank you,” he said.

Dean gave him a friendly smile. “No problem. Let’s get you home now.”

Inias and Samandriel exchanged a brief look. “Could we…” Inias began shyly. “Could we stay here a while? Or aunt’s shift doesn’t start until eleven tonight, and we’d rather not worry her.”

“Of course,” Cas said.

Gabriel straightened up. “Well. If we’re not going out, we’ll stay in and watch something. Castiel, popcorn.”

“We don’t have any,” Cas said.

“My _god_ , you are ridiculous. “Who’s coming with me? Balthazar, you said you’d pay. We’re getting appropriate theater food for these pour souls.”

Balthazar rolled his eyes. “I could make you walk.”

“I could steal your car.”

“Of course you could,” Balthazar said patronizingly. “Let’s leave and get back, shall we?” moving for the door.

And so half an hour later, they all ended up in the living room together, watching Doctor Who. Samandriel was lying down on the couch with his feet propped up on the arm rest, pinning Inias down. Anna was cross-legged in the armchair, Gabriel was lying on his stomach, and Balthazar was sitting with his legs out and back against the armchair. Dean and Cas sat with their backs against the couch, fingers entwined. There was no point in secrecy anymore.

“So,” Samandriel said as the credits began to roll before the next episode started up, “I’m sorry if this isn’t my business, but—you two,” he said, gesturing between Cas and Dean. “Fondue?”

Cas tilted his head. “Fondue?”

Gabriel through a gummy at his head. “The Avengers, idiot. We’re watching that next, I cannot believe you haven’t seen it. I’ll go get it, be back in ten.” He left the room and went outside; he and Balthazar had stopped by Anna’s before, so he had his car.

“I don’t understand that refer—“

“Please, stop, Cassy,” Balthazar said as Anna giggled. “He’s asking if you two are fucking.”

“No,” Samandriel said quickly, “I don’t mean _that_ , I mean—“

“It’s okay,” Dean said. “We’re…”

“Together,” Cas finished for him.

“Yeah.” Dean nodded with a smile. “Though sex does fit into th—“

Cas shoved several pieces of licorice into his mouth, shutting him up.

 

Several hours later, and after Cas had ‘finally’ seen The Avengers (yes, it was very good), he and Dean were alone on the couch, legs tangled together and Cas under Dean’s arm.

“You’re doing it again,” Dean said.

“Doing what?”

“Counting.”

“And now I have to start over.” But he didn’t.

“Are you sure about Monday?” Dean asked after a moment.

Cas sighed in annoyance. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“What about your dad? Then he’s bound to find out.”

“I’ll manage.”

Dean blew a stray hair out of Cas’ face. “I don’t want something to happen to you.”

Cas shrugged. “He might not even care. I don’t know where he stands on the issue.”

“I get the feeling he will ‘care’, regardless. Can’t you just come with me when I go back to my place?”

“As much as your dad would love that.”

“I could explain—“

“No,” Cas said quickly. “You can’t tell anyone.”

“Cas—“

“He’s my father, Dean. And he’s not always…you know. I’m not stupid, I’m aware he’s cruel more often than not, but that’s just because he’s drunk so often. There are times when he’s almost a good father. And running is only a step away from cowering and I told you I’m done with that.” He paused. “When can I get these stitches out?”

“I’ll take them out Sunday.”

“You have to go home sometime.”

“Are you kicking me out?” Dean asked in mock hurt.

“No, but I’m keeping you from your family.”

“They get it,” Dean said. “Otherwise my dad would’ve come knocking days ago, shotgun and everything, ready to drag me back.”

“But Sam probably misses you.”

Dean sighed, knowing Cas was right. “I’ll stay the weekend,” Dean said, “then go home Sunday night and pick you up Monday morning.”

Cas asked, “Do you think they’ll go after Inias and Samandriel?”

“Probably.” Dean thought about the brothers, how they’d seemed…better than most everyone else at Calypse. In a good way. They didn’t deserve what they probably had coming. But they’d have Dean, Anna, Balthazar, Gabe, and Cas behind them. _Cas_ , who was apparently more than capable of throwing a punch if the number he’d done on the guy’s nose was anything to go by. “But they’ll have us. And Hester won’t want them messed with, right? So that leaves out Zach. We’ll just have Lucifer, Crowley, and the Rubies and Meg. And whatever other groups there are now, since some of them split.”

“How’s Jess?” Cas asked unexpectedly.

“Jess? She’s good. They probably couldn’t keep her in a hospital bed for long.”

“I don’t think it was an accident.”

“What?”

“Sarah said the driver didn’t even try to stop.”

“Why would anyone have it out for Jess?”

“Not Jess. Me. Or you, or both of us. She likes Sam, Sam likes her. Sam’s your brother, you like me.”

“Whoawhoawhoa. That…” He was going to say that sounded like a stretch, but maybe it wasn’t in this fucking crazy-ass town. “So maybe it wasn’t an accident. Or maybe it was.” Most likely it was, if he took a moment to think about it like that.

“We can rule out Crowley,” Cas said. “He told you the truth about me. If he was planning to do that, he wouldn’t have Jess hurt.”

“So you think everyone’s out to get us? Break us up?”

“Something like that,” Cas said. “I’m probably getting to close to be happy for them.”

Dean shook his head. Ridiculous. But the facts. “What if he set up the thing with Jess and when that didn’t work, he told me about you?”

“I don’t think that’s what he’d have done. If that was the case, he would’ve told you first and when that didn’t work, he’d resort to violence. He likes word games more.”

“Did I ever tell you this town’s web rivals the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros?”

Cas smiled. “I believe you have. But. It couldn’t have been Zachariah either. They wouldn’t do something like that—not to someone like Jess. Michael wouldn’t condone it and Zachariah wouldn’t risk him finding out. Especially not hit and run styles, not after Raphael. I wouldn’t think Lucifer would either, but it’s possible.”

“So that leaves Meg.”

“It doesn’t seem right though. They don’t _hate_ us, they jus—“

“Ruby beat the _shit_ out of you!” Dean said, sitting up abruptly.

“That was different,” Cas said. “It was payback and I was the easiest target of the group.” Cas sat up, too. “Before you say that doesn’t make sense, just trust me. It does.”

“Okay, so who then?” Dean asked, biting back other words.

“Maybe it was an individual.”

Dean shook his head. “We’ll figure this out later. Come one, let’s go to bed.” He took Cas’ hands and led him to his bedroom, and they curled up under the covers.

 

Cas was fast asleep, for once seemingly totally exhausted. He’d insisted on taking the wrap off so his skin could breathe and Dean begrudgingly let him, but now Dean was awake and staring at Cas’ arms and wanting to kick himself. He traced his fingertips over the broken skin in the lightest of touches. His eyes stayed closed, breathing even. He kissed the hollow of Cas’ throat and he stirred but didn’t wake. _Shit_ , he was so fucked. He loved Cas, really, _really_ loved him, and he sounded like _such_ a fucking girl in his head.

Cas muttered Dean’s name and rolled over, and at first Dean thought he’d woken up, but he was still asleep. In which case, Cas was royally fucked, too.

On the night stand, Dean’s phone lit up and he reached carefully across Cas to get it. “Jo?” he whispered.

“Dean—“ she choked out brokenly, “can you come over?”

“Jo, what’s wrong?”

“Just for the weekend. Please.”

“Just me?”

“I don’t want to bother anyone else.”

“Jo, if you need anything—“

“Dean, please, just get here.”

“Okay, I’m on my way.”

He checked to make sure Cas’ phone was on silent after he got out of bed. It was three in the morning, and he didn’t want to wake him; he’d call once he’d left and leave a voicemail. And he’d call Anna and ask her to keep an eyes on him. Just to be safe. He’d have to call Sam, too, and explain.

He grabbed some of Cas’ clothes that fit him in a bundle under his arm. If he was going to be there for two days, he’d need another change of clothes. Cas’ stitches he could deal with Monday morning; he probably wouldn’t sleep anyway.

He got his keys from the kitchen and left without a work. His jeans and shirt were still in Cas’ rom, but he could wear them Monday. Cas would probably wash them.

Once in the Impala, Dean turned the heat on full blast because his jacket was inside, but he wasn’t going to waste time or risk waking Cas up. And that’s who he called first.

“Hey, Cas, look, it’s probably super low of me to leave you in the middle of the night, but Jo called and something must’ve happened and I need to go see her. I’ll be back by Monday morning, so we can commit social suicide even further—shit, that’s not—oh, fuck it, you know I didn’t mean it like that. I’ll se you Monday. I love you. Oh, and I’m calling Anna for you, FYI. But yeah. I love you. Bye.”

He rubbed his eyes and made a mental note to get some caffeine the first chance he got.

Anna’s phone rang three times before she groggily answered. “Dean?”

“Hey, sorry to wake you, but I had to take off and I just want to make sure Cas is okay. So could you go to his place for the weekend or take him out or something?”

“Yeah, I can do that. Why’d you have to up and run?”

“Something happened with Jo.”

“What?” A note of alarm entered Anna’s usually collected tone. “Is she okay?”

“I don’t know, she wouldn’t say what it was. She sounded pretty torn up.”

“Call me when you know,” she said.

“I will. Look after Cas.”

Next up: Sam. He got a busy signal at first, but Sam’s voice came from the other line after a few seconds. “Hello?”

“Who are you talking to at three in the morning?”

“…Jess,” “Sam admitted. “But only for the past hour—before that, I was on a role with an essay.”

“Nerd. Look, I’ll let you get back to talking with your girlfriend in a minute, but just so you know, I’m going to Lawrence for the weekend.”

“Dean, Dad’s going to _kill_ you—he let the Cas thing slide because it sounded serious—“

“This is serious, too. Jo called. Something’s wrong, but she didn’t say what. You’d be the best little brother ever if you kept him from freaking out.”

“By not telling him.”

“Exactly. I’ll pick you up Monday morning and you can tell him I’ll come back home that night.

Sam sighed. “Alright.”

“You’re awesome, Sam.”

“Yeah, whatever. And Dean? I hope Jo’s okay.”

“Me too, Sammy. I’ll see you later.”

He turned the radio on, blasting a classic rock station, and maintained a steady fifteen miles over the speed limit all the way to Lawrence.

 

He arrived before the sun was up and knocked on the Harvelles’ door, not wanting to waltz in just to have Ellen beat him to the curb with a wooden spoon or something. Half a second after he knocked, Jo opened the door like she’d been waiting.

Her hair was pulled back messily, loose, like she hadn’t done it tightly enough to begin with. Her eyes were red and puffy and Dean barely had time to take that in before she threw herself at him, arms around his neck in a chokehold. He returned the embrace without thinking about it. Behind her in the kitchen, he saw Ellen standing at the sink, hands supporting her on the counter’s edge, towel in one. She didn’t turn around.

“Jo?” Dean asked quietly against her hair.

She squeezed him tighter and said, “My dad died.”

Shock hit Dean like a semi. He’d been expecting something bad, but…Bill? Invincible, always smiling, gave-Dean-his-first-beer _Bill_?

“It was something in his brain,” she said. “I don’t even remember what they called it. They didn’t know it was there and then I came home from school and I found him—“ She choked off and buried her face in Dean’s neck.

He walked her back a few steps and toed the door shut. Ellen was no longer at the sink.

“Have you told anyone else?” Dean asked.

Jo shook her head. “Do you want anything to drink or something?” She withdrew and wiped her nose on the back of her sleeve.

“No, thanks. I’m fine.”

She pulled him up the stairs and into her room, shutting the door behind them. “I just want to sleep.”

Dean got under the covers with her and she curled up against him. He wrapped an arm around her and gingerly took the ponytail holder out of her hair and combed his finger through it, taking his time undoing the tangles.

He wasn’t quite sure when either of them fell asleep.

 

For a moment, Dean wasn’t sure if he was with Cas or at home, but this didn’t feel like his bed or Cas, and then he remembered. What woke him up was a distinctly breakfast smell coming form downstairs.

Beneath his arms, Jo’s eyes were open.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

“It’s almost noon,” she said.

“That’s like 8 AM weekend time.” He was going for lightly, but it came out all awkward sounding.

“But there’s food and I know you’ll get up for that.”

Dean smiled and kissed her forehead. “Yeah, you’re right.”

The climbed off opposite sides of the bed, and Jo did her hair in a quick side-braid before they went downstairs.

Ellen was at the stove, eggs in one pan, sizzling bacon in another. At the center of the table, there was a plate with a massive stack of waffles, butter and syrup on either side.

Ellen looked over her shoulder and forced out a smile. “Good morning, you two.

Jo sat down at the table without a word.

“Good morning, Ellen,” Dean said politely.

“Though it’s actually afternoon,” she said, turning back to the stove.

Once everything was on the table and the three of them were seated—the chair opposite of Ellen glaringly empty, but no one mentioned it—Ellen, gave Dean a hard look and said, “Dean Winchester, what on earth is on your shirt?”

Dean had to glance down to remember what he was wearing and he pulled a face when he saw the wibbly-wobbly typography.

Jo snorted beside him, trying to cover it up with a bite of waffle drenched it butter and syrup. It wasn’t Dean’s fault that the only clothes Cas had that fit him were slightly over-sized fandom shirts. Damn, he’d actually said that without a thought. Fandom.

“Um. Well, it’s a show—I mean, I don’t—uh, I didn’t—“

“Dean has a boyfriend,” Jo blurted out.

Ellen inclined her head and widened her eyes. “Oh, he does, does he?”

She nodded. “Remember Castiel?”

“The quiet boy?”

Jo smirked and Dean glared at her.

“He opens up once you get to know him,” he said.

“Oh, I’m sure he opens up,” Jo muttered, too low for Ellen to hear over Jo scraping her fork across her plate. Dean almost dropped his bite of egg.

“So how did that happen?” Ellen asked, cutting her waffle into squares. “And why am I just now hearing about it?”

“Um…I don’t really know?”

“Don’t know how it happened or why no one told me?”

“Both?” Dean squeaked—except it wasn’t a squeak, because Dean Winchester did not _squeak_.

Ellen gave him a look and he scrambled for a way to explain it. First kiss? That was so awkward, they’d been talking about their moms and that would most definitely _not_ be a good thing to bring up now when they were obviously trying not to think about Bill. When Cas tried to clobber him over the head after he’d snuck into his house? That wasn’t a good place to start.

“It was gradual,” he tried. “At first. Calypse High School is…really weird. Their social hierarchy is ridiculous, and Cas was at the very bottom, so I sort of…wanted to help him? I don’t even know. Most of the people there are dicks—I mean.” Ellen raised an eyebrow at him and he continued. “Anyway. He helped me get caught up with what some of the classes were doing, and one night we started talking and…yeah. But that didn’t go so well, and then he almost bashed my skull in—he didn’t know it was me—and then we started going out.”

Horrible. Horrible. Horrible explanation.

“I think I’ll just pretend that makes sense for now,” she said. “When do I get to meet this boy? Castiel?”

“Maybe sometime over break. We could come back to Lawrence for Christmas.” Dean was 99.9% sure Cas wouldn’t have plans.

“Why don’t we come to Omaha instead,” Ellen suggested. She probably wanted to put the fact that Bill wasn’t going to be there as far from her mind as possible.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, that could work.”

“He’s not going anywhere for the Holidays?” Ellen asked.

“Nah. He doesn’t get along well with his dad.” Dean shoved a piece of bacon in his mouth and tried to think of a way he could have avoided the D-word.

Jo pushed her eggs around on the plate, and Ellen took another slow, deliberate bite of waffle, swallowed, and quietly said, “Well, that’s too bad.” After a few seconds, she cleared her throat. “You’ll have to drag John and Sam out here, too.”

“Yeah, of course. You know, Sam’s got a girlfriend now, Jessica Moore.”

“And what’s Jessica like?”

 

The rest of the weekend was…as good as it could be, after what happened. Ellen went to work Saturday night, leaving Dean and Jo with the house to themselves.

“So,” she said, resting her head on Dean’s shoulder, “how’s Castiel?”

On the TV, a couple vampires were chasing each other around in the woods.

“He’s good now, finally,” Dean said. “But…I was so scared, Jo. When I went to his house, nobody answered, and I couldn’t find him at first. He was in his mom’s old room—“ Dean closed his eyes, asking his brain not to bring the image up again, but it didn’t listen. “He tried to kill himself.”

Jo wound her arms around Dean. “But he didn’t.”

“He would’ve.” Saying it was horrible, even considering that Cas might not be alive right now. “There was so much blood. God, it was all over him, and all over the sink..” Dean covered his eyes with his hand briefly. “I stitched him up. I should’ve taken him to the hospital, but I wasn’t thinking straight, and all I could think was that he’d be put on suicide watch and what if they only allowed family visitors and…his dad, Jo, _his dad_ —“

 _“No. You can’t tell anyone.”_ Did Jo count as anyone?

“Family would have been the last thing he needed. He didn’t say anything for a while, and I was sure he hated me, but he started to talk. He explained everything—so much shit, I had no fucking idea.”

“But he finally told you,” Jo said. “That’s a big step, right?”

“Yeah. And he said he would stop cutting himself. That he’d try, at least.”

Jo pulled her legs up onto the couch.

 

Sunday, for the most part, they lounged around the house all day.

“You should call Anna,” Dean said.

“I know. I’ll do it tonight, after you’ve left.” She paused. “Did she…tell you anything?”

“Anything like what?”

“Never mind.”

Dean left the Harvelles’ later than he would’ve liked; Ellen tried pushing him out that afternoon, but he insisted there was no need to hurry. Of course, pulling in to the Novaks’ driveway at 2:30 in the morning might’ve been pushing it.

Just as he was about to get out of the car, Cas came out of the house, book bag slung over his shoulder.

Dean gave him a confused look as he climbed wordlessly into the passenger seat, fully dressed. “Can I ask?”

“My dad’s home,” Cas said. “I don’t want to explain the stitches and I don’t want to have you over when he’s like this.”

“He can’t be drunk _all_ the time—or is that how he spends his business trips?”

“He sobers up,” Cas said. “Then on his way back he drinks. I had Anna leave when he came home with a girl a few hours ago. What happened with Jo?”

“Her dad died,” Dean said.

“How’s she managing?”

“She’s Jo. She’ll tough it out. It really sucks though. The funeral’s tomorrow afternoon. Or, I guess _this_ afternoon.

“Drive somewhere,” Cas said. “Why didn’t you stay?”

“For the funeral? I didn’t have a suit. Ellen was practically shoving me out to my car anyway. Where to?”

“I don’t care. Anywhere.”

Dean backed out and navigated through the streets aimlessly. They ended up in the middle of the city, parked by a deserted playground, made up of wood and metal, not plastic.

“You know, I’ve lived here for months now,” Dean said, “and this is the first time I’ve gone into the city.”

“It’s nothing special,” Cas said. “Omaha, the city that never does anything.”

“Such an optimist,” Dean said. “Your suburbs have plenty going on.” He reached over to twine his fingers through Cas’.

“Can you take my stitches out?” he asked unexpectedly.

“Now?”

Cas shrugged. “Why not?”

“Because we’re in the middle of Omaha at 4AM and it’s freezing cold outside.”

“And we’re in a car with the heat on and school starts in a few hours.”

Dean sighed, shaking his head. “Poor lighting?”

Cas pushed the cab lights on. “Your vision is fine.”

“Alright.”

Cas pulled the first aid kit out of his bag and passed it to Dean. “I have your clothes, too,” he said. “They’re clean.”

“Thanks. Oh, and uh, Ellen now knows I have a boyfriend, and that it’s you.”

“Is it safe to assume she’s not a homophobe?”

“Perfectly safe.” Dean turned the heat on full blast. “Arm.”

Cas shrugged out of his jacket and Dean unwrapped his arm. He set to work with removing the stitches.

After finishing both arms (which included rewrapping both because Dean was a paranoid bastard) he tossed the threads and gauze into a small plastic bag and put it and the kit in the back of the car.

“Thank you,” Cas said, slipping back into his jacket.

“No need to thank me,” Dean said, turning the light off and the heat down to a less deafening roar.

“I’m surprised you haven’t fixed the rattling yet.”

“That doesn’t need fixing,” Dean said.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s Legos,” he explained. “In the air vents.”

“And that’s not a problem.”

“Nope. Neither is the army man crammed in the ashtray.”

“Right.”

Dean smiled. “It’s stuff me and Sam did when we were little. We carved our initials, too.”

“Oh,” Cas said, understanding quickly once it was made clear.

Dean twisted their fingers together.

“It’s supposed to start snowing in an hour,” Cas said. “You might want to start heading back.”

“Are you suddenly allergic to handholding?” Dean asked. “I know it’s girly, but usually you don’t care.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Every time I try—‘take my stitches out,’ then, ‘we should head back’.”

“Oh. Sorry,” Cas said halfheartedly.

“Okay, what is it?”

He shook his head. “Forget it, Dean.”

“Seriously, Cas? I thought we were past this.”

“We are. That’s why I’m saying don’t worry about it.”

Dean turned the lights back on. “We can head back once you tell me what happened.”

“Dean, it’ll just upset you. And you just got back from Lawrence and—“

“Turn your head a little more.”

Cas obliged and Dean saw that, on what was the side of Cas’ head that had been facing away from him the whole car ride, there was a gash, purple around the edges, at his hairline.

“Are you fucking serious?”

“I told you,” Cas said.

“What happened?”

“He saw Anna was over. And that’s obviously not okay because she’s his ex-step-daughter. It was somewhat of an accident, actually.”

“For fuck’s sake—“

“He pushed, I found a convenient edge to smack my head against.”

“Cas, come on, you can’t tell me—“

“Dean.” Cas rested a hand on his arm. “It’s fine.”

Dean pushed Cas’ hair away from the discolored area, getting a better look at the cut. “What did you hit it on?”

“The edge of the counter.”

Dean rearranged Cas’ hair so it covered the mark. “You know what? I’m hungry. We’re going to find a place to eat.”

Cas opened his mouth to protest.

“Don’t even,” Dean warned. “We’ve got time. The bell rings at eight fifteen.

 

* * *

 

Dean was picky at 5AM, Cas found out.

Dean drove around.

Dean found a Village Inn.

Pie put Dean in a remarkably better mood.

Dean was terrible at changing clothes in the backseat.

Dean received a bitch glare from Sam when they picked him up at 8:07.

Dean and Cas walked through the high school doors at 8:21.

“So much for making a handholding entrance in front of everyone,” Dean said, slightly out of breath.

“Shut up,” Cas said, cuffing him on the head. “Mr. Shurley won’t care if you’re a few minutes late and if I hurry I can get changed for P.E. before we start warm-ups. I’ll see you at lunch.”

“Don’t I get a kiss?”

“Did you miss the _if I hurry_ part? Lunch.”

 

Crowley and another kid were leaning against the lockers, among others, when Cas entered the locker room. A hush fell over everyone who hadn’t gone into the gym yet, but quickly disappeared into a flurry of whispers and mutters. It seemed like forever ago that Cas had left school in a fit after Crowley had told Dean a very one-sided account of Castiel’s past, when, in reality, it had only been a matter of days.

Cas hastily changed into sweats and a long-sleeved tee (in the bathroom stalls, as usual) and shoved his book bag into his PE locker.

“Look who decided to show up,” Lilith said as she brushed by him. Ruby didn’t spare him so much as a glance the whole ninety minutes and Crowley kept shooting him peculiar looks. They started their tumbling unit that day, so there was more organization and less scattered bodies moving throughout the gym, which was probably part of the reason Castiel wasn’t as harassed as usual.

PreCalc was uneventful and he and Dean met at their lockers before lunch.

“What did you do to your hair?” Dean asked.

“I put some water in it to make it lay right.”

“Ah. So. What are we going to do?”

Castiel shelved his textbook. “We’re going to be ourselves. And not care if everyone stares.”

Dean broke into a grin. “Awesome.”

Cas took his hand.

“So you know what you should do today?” Dean asked.

“What?”

“Come over to my place and help me catch up on homework.”

“You think you’re the only one with missing assignments?”

“Okay, come over and we can _both_ do our homework.”

“I think I can do that,” Cas said.

At their table, there were two other people in addition to the customary Anna, Gabriel, Balthazar—Inias and Samandriel. Samandriel was looking much better, albeit still a bit battered. Cas took a seat beside him.

“Hi, Cas. Dean.” A grin split his face.

“Hello,” Cas said, twisting the cap off his grape juice.

Dean scooted his tray closer to Cas; he wasn’t going to eat his apples and Cas still didn’t get the school lunches. He found most of the meals disgusting, and he’d rather not waste the money his dad provided him with.

“So you two finally marched out of the closet,” Gabriel observed. “People are goggling.”

“Of course they are,” Dean said. “I’ve got this hottest boyfriend this side of the Mississippi.”

“Dean, please, not over lunch,” Balthazar said.

Castiel stole a quick glance around the cafeteria and saw that the groups were indeed more segregated than they’d been less than a week ago. For one, Lucifer and Crowley were sitting with their minions on opposite sides of the room.

“I don’t think the food could get any worse,” Inias said in response to Balthazar’s comment. “The menu said lasagna but this looks more like dog barf.”

Anna set her fork down. “I’m done. I’m surrounded by immature boys. I am completely done.” She got up to dump her nearly untouched tray of food.

Dean tried of bite of the said lasagna and made a face. “It’s like somebody sucked all the taste out with a flavor vacuum.”

Moments after Anna sat back down, a pair of hands set themselves on the tabletop. Following the arms up, Cas saw it was Naomi, and her gaze was entirely focused on the cousins. “Inias, Samandriel. Mingling more than usual today?”

“We hung out this weekend,” Inias said, “and they extended an invitation.”

When her hard stare didn’t ease, Samandriel added, “That we accepted.”

“I’m not sure Hester would fully approve.”

“Is it really Hester’s business?” Samandriel tried, tilting his head in a manner dangerously close to condescending.

She stood up straight and adjusted her shirt. “Well. Just remember the conversation we had about lines when you first arrived, will you? And you two.” She refocused her attention on Dean and Cas. She looked ready to say more, but just smiled patronizingly.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> currently unbeta'd, just finished this and im posting it now. i'll probably proof it later today (as it's 1:30am) sorry it took so long! i was sick for about a solid week and that took a toll on my writing time.  
> k;adkf;lakdjfs;dk  
> im sleeping now, gnight.
> 
> OH! fyi. le introduction of lafitte.
> 
> update: went through and fixed what mistakes i found. any remaining are...still my fault.

Tessa surprised Castiel with a hug in Still Life. Cas let her, mostly because he was too surprised to move. “It’s good to see you, Castiel.” Her smile was warm and he still didn’t understand the extent of their…relationship? Tessa didn’t talk to anyone much, but she only came to school for electives, homeschooled otherwise, so that was probably a part of why she wasn’t so involved in all the complicated hierarchy. They barely ever spoke, but then there were times like these. Of course, she’d never engaged in physical contact before.

“Have you seen the new student?” she asked, taking a seat by him, which was also a first.

“Who?”

“Benny Lafitte. He showed up Thursday. He hit it off with Andrea right away, but she runs with Gordon now—did you hear about all the splitting? So many groups fractured. Lenore and Gordon finally had enough of each other.” (Just because Tessa didn’t get involved didn’t mean she was oblivious.)

“I didn’t know there was a new student,” Cas said.

“I think you should talk to him. He’s an okay guy, Castiel, and he’s new so it’ll be terribly easy for him to get dragged into the wrong parts of this mess.”

“There’s not really a right side,” he said.

“Maybe not, but you and Anna and the rest of your friends are better than most people here. I just think you’d be able to help him find his feet.”

 

As it turns out, there was no need for Cas to talk to Benny.

“Have you spoken to Benny Lafitte?” he asked Gabriel in History.

“New guy? I haven’t, but I saw Dean-o walking with him on my way here. They must’ve had Algebra together. If he invites him to lunch tomorrow, we’ll have a full table.”

“What do you think of him?”

Gabriel shrugged. “Why the sudden interest?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “He’s okay. I heard he used to run with a bad crowd, but then his parents died and he tried to get himself out of it. Course, if he falls in with Gordon that’ll all go to shit.”

“So he moved to get away?”

“As far as I can tell.”

Mr. Stark tapped his pencil on the desk then, beginning the class.

 

At the end of the day, Cas didn’t see Dean at his locker. Strange, since usually he was there. Cas thought maybe Auto Shop was running late when he got a text from Dean.

 

 

> _Meet u at the car_

Cas shrugged his book bag over his shoulder and made his way through the halls. It didn’t take long for Ruby Dague to fall in step beside him.

“Ruby,” he said brusquely.

“Castiel, so curt. Where’s your extra limb?”

“Around.”

“Strange that you’re back and he’s not constantly at your side.”

“He can have other friends,” Castiel said.

“He can, but he doesn’t really, does he? I mean, aside from your quaint little lunch table. I noticed Samandriel and Inias were there today.”

“What do you want?”

She flicked her blonde hair over her shoulder. “I want verbal confirmation. You and Winchester?”

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

“You’re fucking, right?”

“Astounding vocabulary.”

“Are you going to dance around a direct answer?”

“I’m not dancing,” Castiel said. “Yes.”

She raised an eyebrow briefly. “Someone’s feeling brave today.”

They were in the front lobby now, and Castiel stopped and turned to face her. “You should get used to it, Dague. And if you touch either Samandriel or Inias, or any of my friends, you’ll be answering to me. And I assure you, the tables will be turned entirely from the last time.”

She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. “We’ll have to see, won’t we?”

Castiel smiled, cold and polite. “I guess we will. Have a good day, Ruby.”

He left her standing by herself and walked out to the parking lot, for once not regretting standing up to someone.

When Cas saw Dean standing with someone Cas hadn’t seen before—presumably Benny—by the Impala, he frowned. More because of concern about Dean being dragged into the circle Benny was already being towed into than jealousy or anything like that. Benny said something funny and Dean laughed and Castiel’s frowned deepened. This time, it was probably more related to a branch of jealousy than concern. But that was silly and Cas knew it, so he wiped his expression clean. Dean saw him and waved with a grin, glancing over to Benny and saying something. Benny nodded.

“Hey, Cas!” Dean’s hand found its way to Cas' arm reflexively. “Cas, this is Benny, Benny this is Cas.”

Benny gave Cas a smile he wasn’t sure he could trust or not yet.

“Good to meet you, Cas.” He had a heavy southern accent Cas hadn’t been expecting.

“It’s Castiel,” Cas corrected.

“My apologies. Castiel.”

He gave the new boy a tiny smile.

“So, we’re gonna give Benny a ride home,” Dean said. “He’s been walking to save gas, but I told him that’s ridiculous when it’s this cold out. Are you cool with us hanging out for a while? I was gonna help him unpack, maybe show him around a little. Gordon hasn’t yet.”

Cas nodded, wondering if taking Benny home was going to turn into a regular thing and if Dean was remembering they’d been planning on going to his place today. Sam was going to Jess’, so they wouldn’t have to pick him up today. “Sure.” It might give him a chance to get a better idea of what kind of person Benny was.

“Great,” Dean said. “Cas has been here longer, he knows more about this place than me.”

Cas sat shotgun, partially out of habit, but also for other reasons he wasn’t going to mention, and Benny sat in back.

“Benny moved here from Louisiana,” Dean said. “He’s looking for a job. Do you know of any good places?”

“Um…I saw at the movie theatre one or two weeks ago,” Cas said. “I heard someone say Beth’s diner is looking for a kitchen worker.”

“I’ll look into it,” Benny said. “Turn left here.”

A few minutes later, they pulled into a driveway of one of the shabbier—but only in comparison to the surrounding areas—neighborhoods. The house was small, but a decent size for one person. Dean had just asked him why he’d started school when there were only two weeks left in the semester.

“I wanted to be settled in by the time second semester started,” he explained. “And I like to stay occupied.”

Inside, the house had scattered furniture throughout it that looked like it had been there a while.

“Is this stuff yours?” Dean asked.

“It is now,” Benny said. “The family that lived here left in a hurry, didn’t take everything.”

“Do you know why?”

Benny shrugged. “Beats me. The neighborhood might not be as fancy as some, but it’s not a bad place.”

“Likely it’s a family that had a child in the middle school,” Cas said.

“Why do you say that?” Dean asked.

“It’s happened before,” Cas explained. “Families move away when they see how the high school is. Most of the parents are ignorant to how…extreme it really is. Some kids have very open relationships with their parents though, and when they tell them certain things, the adults notice other things and they put pieces together. They leave in a hurry.”

“That’s pretty fucked up,” Benny said after several beats of silence.

“You don’t sound surprised,” Dean noted.

“I’ve been to the school three days now, and it’s…something else.”

“Well, stick with us,” Dean said. “We’re the best group here.”

“What about Andrea?” he asked, failing to be casual. "And her group."

“Andrea?”

“Andrea Wellington,” Cas said. “She’s part of Gordon’s group—used to be Gordon and Lenore, but when Crowley and Lucifer split, others saw it as their opportunity to fracture as well. If she’s with Gordon, it’s not likely she’ll be leaving anytime soon.”

“I don’t know about his friends,” Dean said, “but Gordon’s a dick. I’ve run into him a couple times and didn’t like him. No offense, Benny.”

“None taken. He’s not the easiest person to be around,” Benny conceded. “But he was the first person to talk to me.”

Cas didn’t mention that he was probably just wanting to regain lost numbers.

“Enough school talk,” Dean said. “Where are the boxes?”

“In the back of my truck in the garage,” he said.

They followed him through the house and out through a side door that led directly to the garage.

“There’s not a lot,” Benny said. “But a couple things require some navigating or heavy lifting.”

“Cas, why don’t you start carrying in boxes and I’ll help Benny with some of the heavier stuff.”

Cas glowered and Dean. Yes, it was touching how concerned he was (and how completely unsubtle), but Cas was not some useless damsel or delicate flower that was incapable of doing anything Dean thought was too strenuous. But Dean was already speaking with Benny, so Cas reluctantly picked up a box labeled ‘kitchen’ and carried it inside. When he came back out for another, he asked Benny, “Do you want me to unpack anything?”

“I don’t want to ask that of you.”

“It’s no problem.” So he was polite, and not in a cold business style. That was a good thing.

“If you want to, that would be fantastic.”

Cas grabbed another box while he was out there and back in the kitchen began putting silverware into drawers, plates and cups into cupboards. There were some hooks on the wall that looked like they could hold pots and pans, but Cas didn’t know if Benny wanted to use them or not, so he left the remaining items in boxes by the counter.

He waited for Dean and Benny to navigate through the door with a couple boards from a disassembled bed.

“Stop—we’ve got to angle this more,” Dean said before the edge of a board nicked the wall.

When the way was clear, Cas picked up another box, but this one only had a date written in sharpie on it: 7/18/98. He furrowed his brow and opened it to see what was inside, one because he wanted to know where to put it and two because yes, he wanted to snoop. What he found was paper—lots of it. Old newspaper clippings, photographs, a binder with notes Cas didn’t understand, and…case files. Cas assumed Benny and Dean were assembling the bed, so he chanced a peek. He didn’t think it was legal for Benny to have some of this stuff.

Cas gathered the files were about a missing child. There was a photo of a baby in someone's arms in a hospital clipped to a page.

He heard Dean and Benny through the open door and quickly put everything back in the box as he’d found it and met them at the door with it in his arms.

“This one doesn’t have a la—“

“I’ll take that one,” Benny said quickly. “Sorry. Personal stuff.”

Cas smiled forgivingly. “It’s fine. Is there anything else I should leave alone?” _Go through when you’re not looking._

“No, everything else is okay.” He disappeared back inside with the box.

Cas felt Dean staring. “What?”

“You,” he said. “Smiling and talking with other people.”

“Yes…”

Dean pulled him in for a quick kiss.

“Are we still going over to your house today?”

“Oh shit. I completely forgot. Yes, yes we are. And you really were okay with coming over here, right?”

“It caught me off guard,” Cas admitted. “But it’s fine. Gordon won’t be happy with any of us if he finds out, though.”

“Screw Gordon,” Dean said, giving Cas another chaste kiss. “After we finish helping Benny unpack, we’ll head to my place,” Dean promised. “I’ll show him around another time.”

“Dean.”

“Hm?”

“You’ll have to let go of my belt loops if I’m going to finish.”

Dean kissed him again. “You’re right.”

His phone rang then, and he released Cas to answer it.

“Hey, Jo, how are you?...Good…Right, I won’t…I don’t know what he’s doing…”

Cas chose another box labeled ‘books’ and carried it in, bumping into Benny.

“Where should these go?”

“Just leave them in the living room. I’ve got a bookshelf to bring in.”

Dean passed Cas on his way out again with another box.

“How’s Jo?” he asked.

“She’s holding up. When I was there, it was suggested that me, my dad, and Sam come visit over Christmas break, but that suggestion has suddenly turned into a demand.”

“It’ll be good for you and Sam and your father to spend some time together.”

Less than two hours later, they’d brought everything inside and put away what they could.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow, then?” Dean checked.

“Since you insisted.”

Dean gave a parting wave and he and Cas left.

“So, what do you think of him?” Dean asked once they were both inside the Impala and had the heat turned on.

“He seems…acceptable. So far.”

“So far?”

“Dean, Gordon took him in and he likes Andrea. In all likelihood, we’ll come to be enemies—or at least incapable of friendship.”

“That’s a little judgmental.”

Cas sighed. “Like I said. He seems like an okay person right now. Maybe he’ll get away from Gordon and he’ll stay okay.” He was doubtful though, if Benny had an interest in Andrea.

“Well I like him,” Dean said decisively.

“Enough to go out of your way to give him rides to school.”

“I can’t just let him walk all the way there in the cold. Once it warms up, he’ll be fine.”

“By the time it warms up, it’ll be habitual.”

“What’s going on with you?” He spared Cas a searching glance. “Oh my god—are you jealous?”

Cas crossed his arms childishly. “No.”

“You are! Jesus, Cas, Benny’s straight. He’s into Andrea.” Cas didn’t mention that Dean thought he’d been too. “And even if he wasn’t, I am not interested.”

“I know,” Cas responded quietly. “But…” he sighed, something he seemed to do a lot around Dean when trying to explain things relating to Calypse’s social structure. “I just know how frustrating it is to be friends with someone who’s on the other side of the barricades—“

“I thought you were done with the school’s bullshit.”

“I can’t just stop acknowledging its existence. It is what it is, and just because one person ignores it doesn’t mean everyone will. You were there at lunch. Naomi is furious with Samandriel and Inias, and us for ‘corrupting’ them.”

“She looked a little perturbed, but furious is a bit much.”

“Naomi doesn’t often show emotion. That was fuming for her.”

Dean adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “Look. If you really don’t want to be around Benny, I can take you to school and come back for him.”

“No, it’s fine. I just—I don’t want you to be disappointed if you and him…if things turn sour.”

“I just met him today, anything turning ‘sour’ wouldn’t be too drastic. Are you hungry?”

Castiel shrugged.

“Right, you’re never hungry. You pick tonight. What are we having for supper?”

“I don’t care.”

“For the love of everything edible, Cas, come on. Pick something.”

“Chinese. Or tai.”

“Do you want carry-out?”

“I don’t care.”

“Cas—“

“I honestly have no preference, Dean.”

“Okay. We’ll multitask—homework and food.”

“Is your dad home or has he found another case?”

“Sam said he was still at home. He won’t care if you come over though. He knows there’s some stuff going on.”

Yes, he did. And Cas didn’t want to have to explain exactly _what_ had been happening to Dean’s father. “Will he want to know specifics?”

“Hell yeah, he’ll _want_ to. But…Sam made it clear it was serious. He won’t demand to know.”

“Will he be angry?”

“I think he moved passed the anger stage days ago, otherwise we’d have known about it.”

Cas knew he’d asked Dean this before, but he couldn’t help worrying. The last thing he wanted was to get on Mr. Winchester’s bad side after he’d stopped disliking him. (If he ever really had. Dean had said he’d never been mad at Castiel specifically, but just angry in general about not knowing, Dean lying, ubiquitous other frustrations that all piled up at an inconvenient time.)

“Ruby Dague talked to me today,” he said, though he didn’t know why.

“What’d she say?” Dean asked, immediately on the defensive.

“She asked about me and you, and I told her we were together. She brought up Inias and Samandriel and I warned her off. I don’t think her, Meg, or Ruby Radcliff were behind the guys that attacked Samandriel.” He recalled the icy look in Naomi’s eyes at lunch. Mingling…disapproval…conversation about lines… She had always had her own distinct ideas. “Naomi,” he muttered to himself.

“What?”

“I think…I think Naomi might’ve been behind it.”

“But we ruled out Zachariah, and she runs with him, right?”

“Yes, but plenty of people broke off, and she’s never seen eye to eye with him. She has her opinions and she’s stubborn. And when she mentioned the conversation about lines? There was an undertone of something in the way she said it—I think she personally talked to them about it—not on Zachariah’s order.”

“Like she was trying to gather her own group, separate from his?”

“I believe so,” Cas said, and the more he thought about it, the more he did.

“You know, if we’re going to have all these sides, we should really come up with names.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“No, seriously. ‘Zachariah’s group’, ‘Crowley’s bunch’, ‘Lucifer and all his fucking minions’. Football teams aren't named for their coach.”

“This isn’t football, Dean.”

“No, but names would help, I’m just saying. So if it is Naomi, what are we gonna do about it?”

“We can’t let it go,” Cas said. “Smaller cliques means more people that can disagree, which means more problems. We have to lay down the law. We’re not to be reckoned with. We won’t allow ourselves to be pushed around.”

“Are you saying we go after her?”

“We can’t yet; we don’t know who she has ties to. I didn’t recognize either of the guys that jumped Samandriel, so it’s possible she brought them in from outside the school.”

“What, like she hired them?”

Cas shrugged.

“I know I’ve said this a million times, but this is so fucked up.”

“We have to find out who else is with her, then we expose them.”

“Won’t that just lead to more fighting?”

“Perhaps, but they’ll have just as many enemies as everyone else, then. They won’t be able to focus on one singular group. You order some food, I’ll call Anna, Balthazar, and Gabriel and see if they know or suspect anything.”

“You should ask Samandriel and Inias, too.”

Cas nodded.

“So much for homework,” Dean said under his breath.”

Cas snatched his phone away from him. “Hey!”

“You’re not going to drive us into a telephone poll because you were looking up restaurants. You stick to driving, I’ll deal with the phones.”

 

* * *

 

“I am going to bomb this biology final,” Dean announced, throwing his pencil down.

“If you keep that attitude,” Cas said. “Finish the diagram.”

Dean lolled into Cas’ lap, preventing him from finishing any more PreCalc.

“Dean, move.”

“I’ll move if you kiss me.”

“Stop being a child.”

Dean shrugged and wiggled around, getting comfortable as he could with an open book for a pillow.

Cas’ frown deepened. “Dean, get up.”

“Kiss me.”

Cas glared at him. Yes, okay, his dad was just in the other room, but Dean had had girls over before and behaved similarly with them. Granted, none of them had been so interested in homework.

Cas surprised him with a shove and Dean tumbled off the couch and onto the floor, a muffled “Fuck!” escaping his lips.

The corners of Cas’ mouth turned up smugly and he readjusted his papers.

“I could’ve cracked my skull open!”

Cas gave him a dubious look. “Right. Rolling off a couch. Onto carpet.”

Dean was in the middle of shooting daggers at him when his dad walked in. “It’s getting late.”

“Seriously, Dad?”

“Seriously, son.”

“But we still have homework.”

“You put the poor boy through a three hour X Files marathon before you even started. You should’ve thought about it.”

So maybe it wasn’t the smartest thing, but Cas had enjoyed it, so it was a win.

Dean sighed. “Fine. Oh, and Jo called. Ellen insists that we visit sometime over Christmas break. Or vice versa.”

“I’ll give her a call tomorrow. For now, you need to take Castiel home.”

“Yes, sir.”

His dad disappeared upstairs and Dean turned his head up toward Cas who was now putting his homework away. “Now will you kiss me?”

“ _No_ ,” Cas said firmly, getting to his feet. “You are a ridiculously hormonal teenager, Dean Winchester.”

“Oh, and you’re not?”

Cas did that stupid little smirk again that drove Dean up the wall.

“I hate you,” he said.

“Sure you do.”

On the drive to Cas’ house, they discussed more about Naomi—not that there was much to do besides speculate; they still had no idea who was working with her.

Dean pulled into the driveway. “I’ll pick you up tomor—“

Cas dove in for a kiss Dean hadn’t seen coming, but he complied more than happily, hands wandering everywhere they shouldn’t be when his dad was probably staring at the clock back at the house, counting the minutes until he returned. “You’re such a fucking tease,” he said breathlessly.

“Is that a bad thing?” Cas asked, nipping at Dean’s lip.

“I guess not,” Dean said before pressing their lips together again.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Cas said, cutting things short. He grabbed his book bag off the floor. “Are you picking up me or Benny first?”

“You, of course. But could you sit with Sam in the back? He and Benny don’t know each other, and—“

Cas rolled his eyes. “Yes, Dean.”

“Once they get to know each other, shotgun’s yours again.”

“It’s not a big deal. Before me, Sam sat there.”

“Yeah, but Sam likes you. He doesn’t care. I want to make sure him and Benny’ll get along.”

 

Tuesday brought Economics, and Economics meant Mr. Roman, and that meant Castiel was up most of the night. Not necessarily fretting, just…thinking. So he had dirt on Cas. He’d essentially been blackmailing a minor to exchange sexual favors. Cas could put him away for a good deal of time with that, he was fairly certain. The problem was, Mr. Roman wouldn’t go down without a fight and Cas would get dragged down with him for prostitution, and possible involvement in drug dealing—being involved in an illegal operation to put it broadly and simply. He was still a minor though, turning seventeen in a month and a half, so it wasn’t as if he didn’t have time to think things through. But he knew one thing—he didn’t want to go to juvie, or have any of his past mistakes on his permanent record. So, two things.

He could only see one option that was remotely possible (murder was out of the question): He had to find dirt on Dick Roman that would ruin him so thoroughly that he’d leave Cas alone when he ended things. Trouble was, Mr. Roman was hard to scare. He had it in his mind that Castiel was a timid mouse, and the kind of dirt Cas would need to find was the kind that not everyone had. And Cas didn’t think he’d be able to do it himself. Sure, if it was within the structure of the student body, Cas would’ve known where to look, but he knew nothing about Mr. Roman other than the size of his dick and that he was an exemplary example of his first name.

Dean’s father was a private investigator. Dean would know how to go about this. But did Cas really want to drag Dean into this? No. He knew Dean would want to help, wouldn’t want Cas going in alone, but…he’d put Dean in so much danger already. Simply befriending him for starters. And Jessica had suffered because of their relationship (Castiel was certain, that couldn’t have just been a freak accident), and Samandriel had taken a beating because he’d acted too friendly towards Castiel, and if they did find something, Cas didn’t want Dean being targeted because of his involvement in what they’d uncovered. But…Cas needed this. And he’d never really asked Dean for anything before, he’d always been more than willing, just volunteering, even when Cas didn’t want his help.

He was pulled from his thought when he heard his dad retching in the bathroom. He wasn’t unused to his dad vomiting after too much alcohol, but this sounded different. (Don’t ask him how there could be different sounds for different types of puking.)

He got up and knocked softly on the bathroom door. “Dad? Are you okay?”

“Go back to bed, Castiel,” he said not unkindly, sound muffled by the closed door.

He dared to peek in and saw his dad on his knees, head hanging over the toilet. “Are you sick?”

“I think I caught the flu.” He paused a moment, looking like he thought he might puke again, but it passed. “Did I wake you?”

Cas shook his head. “I was already awake.”

“You should try and get some rest. It’s late.”

Part of Castiel was nagging him, _Tell him, tell him, tell him. He’s sober, tell him._ Sober, yes, but _sick_. Cas shouldn’t tell him about Dean now.

“Where were you earlier?” his father asked, flushing and putting some toothpaste on his toothbrush.

“With Dean.”

“He’s the boy that was over here a while ago, right?”

Cas nodded.

“Try to get some sleep,” his dad said.

Cas retreated to his room and shut to door.

It wasn’t fair that his father would get sick now. If it was the flu that was going around, it would last at least a week, maybe two. Every second Castiel was home, he would be passing up chances to tell his dad. It would be easier if he found out from someone else and was drunk. Cas had no idea how he’d react if he wasn’t. All he knew was once he got better (and had an abundance of alcohol back in his system) things would only go south.

Cas wanted to talk to Dean tomorrow—today, now—but they’d be with Benny after school, ‘showing him around’. Cas decided to text Dean. If he was awake enough to hear his message alert, maybe Cas would call him.

 

 

 

> _Are you awake?_

He didn’t have to wait long for a response.

 

 

 

> _Cant call. Dads in the other room wrking. What is it?_
> 
> _My dad’s sick. The flu. But he’s thinking clearly. I don’t know if I should tell him or let him find out from someone else._
> 
> _Maybe 2am isnt the best time_
> 
> _Good point, Dean. I hadn’t thought of that._
> 
> _Someones being a smartass_
> 
> _Dean, please be serious._
> 
> _Cas i dont know ur dad well enough. All i know is he drinks & hes abusive_
> 
> _I told you he’s not like that all the time._
> 
> _Often enough for me to not like him_

Cas decided to change tactics.

 

 

 

> _If I wanted to find something out about someone, where would I start?_
> 
> _Hypothetically?_
> 
> _Yes._
> 
> _Right. Ill play but thats too vague. Who n what?_
> 
> _Someone with a flawless reputation, but who you know is a dirt bag._
> 
> _Thats the who, what about the what_
> 
> _Not sure. Something bad._
> 
> _You need 2 know more about them before u go deeper. Job, family, social circle, etc. What r u thinking?_

Tell him or don’t? Cas must’ve debated too long, because Dean sent him another text.

 

 

 

> _Cas tell me what ur thinking_
> 
> _I can’t end things with D.R. until I can be certain it can be a clean break._
> 
> _JC cas, blackmail is hardly ‘clean’_
> 
> _He blackmailed me first. If I stand him up now, he’ll tell my dad and everything will go even deeper into the gutter._
> 
> _So u want somethng bad enough to keep him silent_
> 
> _Exactly._
> 
> _I dont want you digging thru his past alone_
> 
> _I don’t want you involved. Just helping me get started is more than enough._
> 
> _Cas i s2g if u do somethng to get urself in trouble i will kill u myself_
> 
> _I’ll be fine. There might not even be anything to find._
> 
> _Bullshit. W/ a dbag like him therell be plenty if u dig deep enough. Well excavate every buried secret he has_
> 
> _Dean, I told you I’ll do this myself._
> 
> _Not happning_
> 
> _You are infuriating._
> 
> _Im also pretty hot_
> 
> _And have terrible texting skills._
> 
> _Srsly?! Ur a grammar nazi! Txting is supposed to be shorthand_
> 
> _You are denied all future pleasurable privileges._
> 
> _Im not gonna let u go after dick urself_
> 
> _That was an unnecessary double entendre._
> 
> _Ur an unecessary double enwhatevr_
> 
> _I hate you._
> 
> _Hate u more_
> 
> _Infuriating._
> 
> _Adorable_
> 
> _I know I am._
> 
> _Asshole_

Cas smiled to himself and sent a final message.

 

 

 

> _Goodnight, Dean._
> 
> _Night_

 

The next morning, fifteen minutes before Cas usually left with Dean, there was a knocking on the door. His dad was lying in bed, still sick,  so Castiel answered it. He was surprised to see Dean standing there.

“Dean. I’m almost ready, I didn’t know you’d be here this early—“

“I’m here to tell your dad with you.”

Cas was stunned into a moment of silence, followed by a lame, “What?”

“I thought about it,” Dean said. “If you want to tell him when he’s sober, best to do it now. And if we tell him in the morning before school, he’ll have all day to think about how to react.”

“So you want to drop a bomb and come back after the dust has settled.”

“You could say that.”

“Let me finish getting ready. Five minutes.”

Cas grabbed the clothes he’d pulled out moments before and changed quickly in his room, then heading to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Once he was finished, he gestured for Dean to come stand outside his father’s bedroom door. He went in by himself first.

“Dad?”

His father’s eyes opened, but he hadn’t been sleeping. “Hm?”

“There’s something you need to know. It’ll be quick, and if you want to discuss it, we can after school.” His brain chose that moment to remember Benny and how they were supposed to show him around. So it might be a little later than _right_ after school.

“What are you talking about?”

Cas looked over his shoulder and gestured for Dean to come in. “Dean and I”—he laced his fingers through Dean’s—“are together. I just thought you should know. I’ll be back later.”

It was over fast, and though Dean hadn’t said anything, his presence had definitely been a comfort. They were out of the house before Cas’ dad could say anything and Dean kissed Cas once outside, hands on either side of his face. “Done.”

“What if he hates me even more? What if he hates _you_?”

Dean laughed carelessly and grabbed his hand. “I don’t give a shit.” But his fingers squeezing Cas’ said that if his father responded with anger he definitely _would_ give a shit. “Now come on, we still have to pick up Benny.”

“Hey, Cas,” Sam said when he slid into the seat next to him.

“Good morning, Sam.”

“I tried to tell Dean I didn’t care if Benny sat by me, but he never listens.”

“I know how that goes. Your company is probably preferable to his anyway.

Sam grinned at Dean’s scowl. “I can make both of you walk,” he threatened as he started the car.

Sam shrugged. “I’ll call Dad. He’d be thrilled to hear you left us.”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

Cas smiled at the brothers’ banter.

At Benny’s house, Dean texted him to let him know they were there. A minute later, Benny came out, wearing a captain-style hat on his head.

“Hey, Benny,” Dean said amiably.

“Cold outside.”

“Welcome to Nebraska. I told you you didn’t want to walk to school every day.”

“I think I could’ve managed.”

“Benny, this is Sam. Sam, Benny.”

Sam offered up a smile. “If you haven’t found out already, my brother’s a dick.”

“I don’t know, he seems alright so far.”

“Just wait,” Sam said. “Cas can tell you.”

Benny raised an eyebrow. “Castiel doesn’t seem like the kind of person who dates dicks.”

Cas tried to ignore the cruel irony in that, because Benny didn’t know, he couldn’t possibly know, but he saw the edges of Dean’s light-hearted expression twitch.

“I made an exception,” Cas said. “He’s got a decent facial structure. Mostly I use him for a life drawing model.”

“You’re an artist?” Benny asked, twisting farther around in his seat.

“I enjoy it, but I—“

“Yes, he is,” Dean cut in. “Don’t let him tell you otherwise.”

“Do you ever take jobs?”

“I…haven’t before.” The question threw Cas a bit.

“My mom always wanted to get a family portrait done—a painting, I mean, not just a photograph. Any chance I could talk you into doing it?”

“I…I could attempt it.” Cas wasn’t quite sure what he was saying. Paint a family portrait? A family with two of the three people dead? Sure, why not.

“I can give you photographs, of course,” Benny said. “I don’t expect you to paint a bunch of people you’ve never seen.”

“When do you want it by?”

“There’s no rush,” he said. “I can give the photographs to you after school today, and then you can start whenever you w—”

“ _Shi—_ “ Dean slammed on the breaks milliseconds before a shiny red Camaro Castiel knew all too well flew past a stop sign, arm extended lazily out the driver side window, middle finger up.

“Fucking _dick_!” Dean shouted, slamming the steering wheel with his hands. “Sam, you okay?”

“Fine. Who was that?”

“The biggest fucking asshole you will never meet. _Fuck!_ ”

“Lucifer,” Cas mouthed to Sam.

“Isn’t that kind of ironic? Satan driving a red car?”

“A red car that I’m going to take a fucking _tank_ to!” Dean yelled.

“We’re all fine,” Cas said. “Let’s just finish getting to school.”

They got moving again and the rest of the ride was silent, Dean’s anger taking up all the air in the car. Cas tried to think of how he could keep Dean from murdering Lucifer.

“Benny,” he said when they got to school and Dean was slamming his book bag around needlessly. “If you want, we have an open spot at our table at lunch. I didn’t know if Dean had already asked you.”

Benny gave him a one-sided smile. “Thanks, Castiel,” he said before heading towards the school. But he didn’t say if he would or wouldn’t sit with them.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” Dean muttered.

“Dean, calm down. We’re fine, your car’s fine—“

“He’s a fucking _douchebag_!” Dean shouted too loudly, turning several heads, including those of a couple that had been making out against a car. “This is just the last straw. He’s had it coming. Messing with you, with us, with every fucking moron in this God-forsaken school—I’ll bet he was the one that hit Jess.”

“ _Dean!_ ” Cas hissed. “You need to calm down right now.”

Dean jerked his arm from Cas’ grip, but paced back to the driver side of the Impala to Cas’ relief. He pressed his palms against the edge of the car’s roof for a few seconds before gathering himself up. “Let’s go,” he grumbled.

Cas walked beside him, careful not to let their arms brush because he wasn’t sure what would set Dean off again.

Luck still hated Castiel.

They made it as far as halfway to their lockers before they ran into Lucifer. Literally, when he passed by, he bumped into Dean’s shoulder. Cas wanted to strangle him for continually provoking Dean, but he didn’t get a chance before Dean grabbed Lucifer by the shoulder, spun him around, and punch him squarely in the face. Lucifer held two fingers to his nose and checked to see if it was bleeding. It wasn’t. Yet.

“Well, well, well, Winchester woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.”

“And you, apparently, can’t drive. Does that run in the family, or is it just a coincidence?”

Cas’ whole body tensed because wrong, wrong, _wrong_ , that was _definitely_ the wrong thing to say. Lucifer’s eyes narrowed to lethal slits.

“What did you just say?”

“Just wait,” Dean continued on idiotically. “In a few years, you’ll be the drunk college kid killing a couple highschoolers in an accident.”

Lucifer swung a rage-filled fist, but in his anger miscalculated and Dean managed to duck out of the way.

“A little slow today, Luci?”

Dean evaded the next punch as well, but Lucifer was not an amateur and Dean was not accustomed to his fighting style. On the third swing, fist connected with jaw, and Dean stumbled back several steps, almost bumping into Castiel. He had to roll to avoid the next throw, and then Lucifer took advantage and gave him a solid kick to the stomach. Dean curled in on himself and groaned and Cas flashed back to the beginning of the year when Uriel had found him alone on the way home. Then Dean came along, stupid fucking idiot, and insisted on helping Cas out. Checking for broken ribs.

That blow could’ve broke Dean’s ribs.

Cas tossed his book bag and marched over to Lucifer while resident ass picked Dean up by the shirt collar and shoved him back. “Don’t bring up my brother without remembering I can get to yours,” he threatened.

“Don’t you fucking touch Sam,” Dean growled, delivering fist to Lucifer’s gut.

Lucifer quickly regained his stance on the offensive, but before he could hit Dean again, Cas jerked him around and delivered three fast blows. Cheek, gut, chest. He just missed the collarbone. Lucifer’s lips curled up into a smile and Cas didn’t have time to wonder why Dean had seemingly vanished.

“Castiel. You’ve got your fight back, I see. Excellent.”

Cas punched him in the mouth. He didn’t have to look to know his knuckles were bleeding.

“Right,” Lucifer said, backing up briefly. “You never were one to talk. Even before.”

When his fist made impact below Castiel’s eye, Cas saw stars for a moment before he got himself together—just in time for another hit, this one to his abdomen. He blocked the pain from his mind, as he’d gotten good at over the past couple years, and sent a series of punches Lucifer’s way. A good seventy-five percent of them made solid contact and for a finishing touch, he shoved Lucifer back. The crowd parted for him and in an attempt to keep himself from falling, he backstepped into the wall.

Castiel grabbed two fistfuls of Lucifer’s shirt and kept him pressed against the wall. “If you so much as raise a finger at my boyfriend or his brother ever again, I will come after you.”

Lucifer smirked at him cockily.

“You won’t be smiling then,” Castiel said, inches from his face.

He pushed him back and walked away, spotting Benny practically hugging Dean to hold him back as he picked up his book bag. Benny let him go and Dean made his way to Cas. In a grand, _fuck you_ gesture, Cas offered his hand to him. Dean took it in an exaggerated manner, and they walked the rest of the way to their lockers that way, bloodied fingers entwined.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finished at 3am and unbeta'd.  
> read if you dare.  
> is really sorry is short

Dean winced when Cas dabbed at his knuckles with a wet paper towel. The none-too-flattering bathroom lights flickered overhead, and Cas left the water running so no blood would stain the sink.

“Where are all the teachers this morning anyway?” he asked, amazed at how Cas could disconnect himself entirely from the pain and not even flinch as he stuck his hand under the water again.

“Teachers’ meeting,” Cas said as he took Dean’s other hand in his.

“All of them?”

Cas shrugged. “No. But the ones that don’t have to go usually don’t get here early on meeting days. Stop being such a baby,” he said when Dean flinched again.

It wasn’t that Dean was seriously _bothered_ by the pain—he’d gotten into his fair share of fights back in Lawrence. He thought his pain tolerance was pretty high, as a matter of fact, but he still _felt_ it. Cas just seemed totally immune. Dean caught a glimpse of the scar on his palm and thought maybe he’d built up a gradual immunity to pain. He hadn’t reacted at all when Dean had stitched him up either.

“Your turn,” Dean said, taking the saturated paper towel from Cas and tossing it in the garbage. He got a new one from the dispenser and wet it down before wiping Cas’ hands off. “Jesus,” he said. “How about next time you don’t scrape off all the skin on your knuckles.”

“There better not be a next time,” Cas said.

Dean chewed his lip and tried to read if Cas was angry with him or not for mouthing off to Lucifer. Getting in a few punches wasn’t worth Cas’ bleeding hands or the bright patch of purple blooming beneath his left eye. Then again, seeing it made Dean want another round with Lucifer.

At the center of the bruise there was a small cut where the skin had split. Dean ran his thumb lightly over the mark, fingertips barely touching the skin. Cas held his gaze and Dean leaned in and placed a kiss on the swollen skin, and when he opened his eyes, Cas’ were closed.

“This is kind of my fault, isn’t it?” Dean asked.

Cas sighed, breath tickling Dean’s face. “No. Lucifer is just…difficult.”

“But I let him push my buttons.”

“Almost T-boning your car is a little more than pushing buttons,” Cas said before planting a kiss on Dean’s forehead.

“But it’s not an excuse.”

Cas nodded slowly, barely moving his head. “No. It’s not.”

Dean blotted lightly at Cas’ cheekbone. “Do you…do you feel this?” he asked hesitantly.

Cas canted his head. “You’re going to have to expand upon that.”

“You’re like a machine when it comes to being bruised and battered. You don’t react. Nothing makes you so much as flinch—even when I was stitching you up, it was like the pain didn’t register with you.”

Cas shrugged. “Do you really not know the answer to that question?”

Dean’s mouth dipped into a frown. “I don’t want to think that’s it.”

“Why?”

“Because. Then I think about how much you’ve had to suffer to build up a tolerance like that, and I don’t like it. It makes me want to hit something.”

“You just finished hitting something,” Cas said. He took the paper towel from Dean’s hand and tossed it in the trash. “We have to get to class.”

Dean heaved a sigh and followed Cas out of the bathroom, walking almost directly into Anna.

“Dean! What the hell happened?”

Dean gaped. How was it always only his fault? “Cas is right here, just as bad as me—“

She flicked him on the nose. “Castiel doesn’t start fights.”

“Anna, it’s fine,” Cas said. “On the way to school, Lucifer was…not being a friendly driver. That led to a fight at school.”

“He must really be on edge,” Anna said. “I didn’t know what to think about what people were saying. Wow.”

Dean hadn’t thought about it, but maybe it was weird for Lucifer to be careless on the road—what with Raphael and the accident.

“What’s going on?” Cas asked.

“Remember in elementary school? There was a girl named Abaddon.”

Cas’ eyes went back in time, going through catalogues of faces, and Dean tried not to get distracted. The moment Cas made the connection, his eyes showed it.

“Abaddon Rogue. She was friends with Lucifer.”

“Right,” Anna said. “Then she moved away the summer before sixth grade. But this is where things get weird. So, I guess she stayed in contact with Lucifer for a while. Kid stuff—phone calls, emails, an occasional letter. But at some point, Abaddon met Bela Talbot.”

“ _Bela Talbot?_ ” Dean asked dubiously. “The Bela Talbot everyone here hates?”

“Keep up, Dean, yes. So A and B become close friends—they’re older now, and Abaddon’s closer to Bela than she was with Lucifer. You know how Bela stole from Lucifer? She and Abaddon split the money.”

“What the fuck is wrong with this place,” Dean said. It wasn’t even a question, just a statement of fact because there had to be some supernatural force at work, fucking with everything because in the normal world, shit like this did not just _happen._

“If you figure it out, let me know,” Anna said.

“What does this have to do with Lucifer being on edge?” Cas asked.

“Abaddon’s back.”

Dean wanted to throw his hands in the air and scream. He didn’t even know who this Abaddon chick was, but the last thing this place needed was yet _another_ player in its already too complicated game.

Cas’ mouth dipped into a moue. “Bela and Abaddon. Absolutely nothing could go wrong.”

Anna glanced up at a clock. “Class starts in two minutes. Dean, shoo. I’ll take Cas.”

“I’m not a baby,” Cas said as he fell into step beside Anna.

Dean heaved a sigh. This town had to be cursed.

 

* * *

 

When Anna and Cas walked into Historical Lit, Chuck wasn’t there—he was probably late, again. Anna pulled Cas to a couple seats in the corner and plopped him down beside her.

“Abaddon means business,” she said. “She knows about how Bela’s being treated and she’s pissed. Her and Lucifer having history makes things even worse, even if it was just kid stuff. We need to avoid her entirely.”

“That’s too bad, I was planning on inviting her over later.”

Anna shoved Cas’ head, careful not to be too harsh. “Shut up. Abaddon didn’t take shit when she was eight, I don’t even want to think about her now. If we avoid her, we won’t have to worry about getting on her good side or bad side.”

“Is she really that much of a threat? Just arriving today?”

“I give her a week before she’s just as big a player as anyone else here. My main concern is Meg and the Rubies teaming up with her. When sides are smaller, things have a tendency to stay petty. But if people start forming bigger groups, things could get serious. Fast.”

“Aren’t things already serious?”

Anna gave him a heartbroken look that made Cas feel sorry for saying anything.

“I’m sorry things are so bad for you,” she said quietly.

Cas reached for her hand, their fingers barely brushing. “It’s okay.”

She shook her head. “No,” she said quietly. “It’s not.”

In a flurry of wind and paper, Chuck bustled through the door, leaving no time for any more conversation.

 

* * *

 

“Hey,” Dean said as he took a seat by Cas in Painting. “We didn’t get a chance to talk this morning about last night.”

“Dean—like I said, I don’t want you involved in this.”

Dean nudged Cas’ shoulder. “You’re my boyfriend, I’m already involved.”

Cas didn’t voice that boyfriend didn’t feel like the right word. He always connoted boyfriend with relationships that were temporary, coming and going with the wind. He didn’t feel like that with Dean. Dean was a part of him. Dean had fixed him, put him back together, and if Cas lost him he would be lost again. Dean was something more than just a ‘boyfriend’. He was more important than that. To Cas, at least.

“And I love you and I want you safe,” Cas said.

“Nope. We’re doing this together. We can start today after helping Benny.”

“That’s not the best time. We dropped a bombshell on my dad; I need to go home sometime.”

Dean frowned. “Well, yeah, okay. How about tomorrow after school?”

Cas heaved a sigh. Dean wasn’t going to let it go. He should’ve known—he _had_ known—that this would happen. “Tomorrow works.”

“Do you want me to wait for you after Benny’s? In case your dad freaks out.”

“No, I’ll be fine. With the way he looked this morning, he’ll be bedridden for a while.”

Mrs. Milton clapped her hands together. “Good morning, class.”

Everyone responded with a dull good morning, standard protocol.

“For those of you ready to move on today, you’ll be starting your final project. For those of you still working on your pop art, don’t rush. This last project is only if you have time. I want all of you to give portraits a try, and in a medium you haven’t used yet. Ah! Don’t whine. If you hate the final product, you can do whatever you want with it.”

“She just condemned ninety percent of the class to failure,” Dean said.

“She didn’t say it had to be realistic,” Castiel said.

Dean’s features rearranged themselves quickly into a frown. “Still. Shut up.”

Cas smirked, but let it go. “Who are you going to paint?”

“I don’t know. We just got the assignment thirty seconds ago.”

“Would it make you uncomfortable if I painted you?” Cas asked.

Dean grinned at him. “You’ve already drawn me, like, a million times.”

“Yes, but that was…private.”

Dean slapped him on the shoulder. “Paint whoever you want. But if it’s gonna be me, just make sure I look good.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “Well, that’ll be next to impossible.”

“Maybe I’ll paint you and make you look horrible.”

Castiel turned his head and gave Dean a wide-eyed look that he recalled someone saying made him look like a puppy.

“Piss off,” Dean grumbled. “That’s not fair.”

Cas grinned.

 

* * *

 

Lunch proved to be quite interesting.

Their table of seven was all seated when the eighth place became occupied by a tall redhead. Dean ventured a guess and assumed it was Abaddon.

Anna raised her eyes from across the table to meet Abaddon’s gaze. “That seat’s taken.”

Abaddon narrowed her eyes and gave Anna a sideways glance. “Really? I doubt that, but I’ll be gone in a minute. I just wanted to have a quick chat.

So much for remaining neutral.

“What’s between you and Lucifer,” Anna said, “is between you and Lucifer. Don’t bring us into it.”

“Oh, but you’re already involved. Bela filled me in on the layout of this place. I’d like to present you with an opportunity. The chance to become allies.”

“Not interested,” Anna said without a moment’s pause.

“An enemy of my enemy—“

“Is still your enemy. Now, if that’s all, you won’t mind leaving.”

The corners of Abaddon’s lips quirked up in a smirk. “Just know, I will tear anyone and everyone apart that I need to.” She stood, and Dean caught a glimpse of her shirt—The Devil Made Me Do It. “Oh, and Dean—don’t think I don’t know about your friends back in Lawrence.” She cast a pointed look to Anna. “Don’t think I don’t know.” She gave them a bright grin before leaving. “Toodles, sunshines.”

As soon as she was gone, Dean asked Anna, “What was that about?”

“Exactly what she said it was. Lines, sides.”

“I don’t think that’s what we’re wondering,” Gabe cut in. “What about that last comment?”

Balthazar rolled his eyes. “God, not again.”

“What, like you know what she meant?” Gabe snapped.

“As a matter of fact. It’s not rocket science, are you all that thick?”

Dean glanced over at Cas and saw him nodding, like he was understanding it. “Cas? Do you know, too?”

Anna shook her head at Cas and he gave Dean an apologetic look. “I can’t say.”

“I’ll tell you guys later,” she said, “if you just wait.”

“Later like when?” Gabe asked impatiently.

She looked to the heavens in exasperation. “After school. Find me at my car. God.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for adding all the new characters but not really.  
> i promise i'll figure out how to make this all come together.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updates should be happening frequently again now that i have a laptop. (:  
> unbeta'd, please excuse what im sure is a myriad of typos.

Castiel was no longer afraid to walk into Economics. He might not have the dirt needed on Mr. Roman yet, but he would soon, and he could stop worrying if Mr. Roman would ask him to stay after class or not. He almost— _almost--_ didn’t even care anymore; it would all be over, sooner rather than later. If Castiel didn’t find anything he could use against Mr. Roman, it didn’t matter because Economics ended this semester. Of course, Castiel wasn’t stupid enough to think it would just all be over then—but it would certainly be much less often.

At the end of the class, Mr. Roman handed back the tests from last week. At the top of Cas’ paper, written in red ink, was _see me after school_. Cas didn’t react when he read it, and he didn’t let Dean see it either. That would only lead to trouble. In the hall before Dean left for P.E., Cas said, “I was thinking—I should probably head home right away.”

Dean gave him a funny look. “Okay…if you’re sure. I can drop you off, then head over to Benny’s—“

“No, I’ll get home on my own—maybe with Anna. You told Benny you’d help him, so you should.”

“Oh…okay. Do you want to start going through Roman’s past later tonight then?”

“Yeah, that’d be good.”

“I’ll see you tonight then.” Dean pressed a chaste kiss to Cas’ lips.

 

And so, shortly after the majority of the students had cleared out of the building, Castiel walked into Mr. Roman’s classroom, locking the door behind himself.

“Always making assumptions,” Mr. Roman said, watching him from behind his desk. “Did it ever occur to you, Castiel, that I just wanted to discuss your grade?”

“My grade is fine,” Castiel responded curtly.

Mr. Roman gave him a disturbingly cheery grin. “Yes, that’s true. I’m surprised you’ve started talking. Usually your lips are sealed. But,” he said, standing up and moving his hands to unzip his pants, “since your mouth’s already open, I can think of a few sensible things you could do with it.”

Castiel didn’t let himself glower. Instead, he made himself get on his knees in front of Mr. Roman, who was leaning against the front of his desk, stroking himself in preparation. _Less than three weeks_ , Castiel reminded himself, _less than three weeks._ Cas closed his eyes and fit his mouth around the head of Mr. Roman’s dick. He’d done it enough times to know what he should and shouldn’t do, but he was surprised when Mr. Roman put his hand behind Castiel’s head, holding him there. He’d never done that before—when it came to oral, Castiel always did all the work. He had a moment of panic and that was a mistake. Mr. Roman shoved him back and Castiel hit the back of his head on a desk.

“What the hell was that, Castiel?”

Cas didn’t know if he would’ve said anything or not, but before he would’ve had a chance, Mr. Roman was on top of him, hand forcing his mouth open. “Don’t fuck up again,” he warned. “You don’t choke on Winchester’s cock, do you?”

He thrust his hips forward and slammed painfully into Castiel’s mouth. When he finished, Castiel struggled to swallow and choked.

Mr. Roman stood up, redid his pants, and collected his things. At the door, he looked over his shoulder and down at Castiel who was just sitting up.

“Do clean yourself up before leaving,” he said. “Actually…just wait until everyone else has left. Your state can’t be helped.”

He made his exit then, and Castiel picked himself up. He spit out what was left in his mouth onto the floor and straightened his clothes.

Why the sudden change? There had to be a reason. Maybe it was because first semester was almost over, because Mr. Roman didn’t have very much guaranteed time left with him. That was the only reason Castiel could think of.

He grabbed a handful of tissues because that was the only usable thing in the room to clean the small mess off the floor and himself. He threw them angrily in the garbage and tossed a few papers on top. There was nothing in the room that would provide him with a clear enough reflection to present him with an accurate idea of his appearance, so he got himself together and marched out the door. He didn’t encounter anyone in the halls, and he supposed he should be grateful, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was so _sick_ of this place.

Dean hadn’t tried calling him yet, which meant he hadn’t asked Anna if Cas had asked about a ride—he was assuming she’d explained she and Jo were together after school.

Castiel inhaled a breath of sharp, winter air. It cleared his senses on the walk home, or numbed them, he wasn’t sure.

When he peeked into his father’s room, he saw his dad was passed out and there was a half-empty liquor bottle on the nightstand. Castiel clenched and unclenched his fists before shutting the door. He could feel pieces of him cracking in a way they hadn’t before; he felt unstable. Why would his dad ever be okay about anything Castiel did? If Cas had come out as straight, he’d probably take it the same way. It was stupid of Castiel to think he’d be accepting of any relationship he had.

He went into his room and locked the door behind him. He wanted to shower, but he was pissed and he didn’t want to risk waking his dad, so instead he stripped down to nothing and tossed his clothes in the farthest corner of the room.  He then yanked all the blankets off his bed and piled them in the corner opposite of his clothes. Naked and freezing, he burrowed into the pile, closed his eyes, and focused on not being angry. And when he stopped being angry, he tried to ignore the scenes playing behind his lids.

 

At some point, he must’ve fallen asleep, because he was pulled from unconsciousness by a knocking on his door. And his dad never knocked—he banged his fist.

“Cas?”

Castiel didn’t want to have to move to unlock the door.

“I’m fine,” he said groggily. “Go away.”

“Open up.”

“No.”

“Stop being such a child.”

Cas imagined Dean’s face and glared at it from underneath the blankets before getting up to unlock the door. He kept as many blankets around him as he could, then collapsed back onto those remaining of the floor just as Dean walked in. He cast Cas a questioning glance. “Is there something wrong with your bed?”

“No.”

“Then why aren’t you in it?”

“Why are you here?”

Dean sighed and Cas heard it as he plopped down beside him. “You lied to me earlier. You didn’t get a ride from Anna—I called here and she said you never even asked.” He paused. “I know you’re not a share-all type, and that’s fine, but…Cas, I thought something was up after Econ, but I didn’t say anything because I was giving you the benefit of a doubt. But I can’t…I need you to be honest with me. And if you’re not, just tell me—you don’t have to give me the story, just don’t make something up.”

“It was for your own good,” Cas said from beneath the blankets.

“Dude, come out. I can barely understand you.”

Cas pulled the blankets away from one eye. “I said, it was for your own good.”

“How about you stop worrying about me for a little while? Just focus on yourself.”

“You’ll be mad if I tell you,” Cas said.

“At you?”

“Maybe.”

“Try me.”

Cas pulled the blankets back over his eye.

“I will come in there,” Dean threatened.

Castiel didn’t respond, maybe because he didn’t feel like it, or maybe because he wanted Dean near him.

A few seconds later, his nest was disturbed by Dean worming his way in. Cas managed to wrap one blanket entirely around himself before Dean got situated.

“Seriously, Cas,” Dean said. “Why are you on the floor?”

Cas stared at Dean, now buried with him. “Because it’s easier to wash blankets than a mattress.”

“You’re dirty?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

Dean’s eyes roamed over his face, questioning for a few moments before his face darkened.

“You didn’t ask Anna for a ride because you didn’t go straight home.”

Cas didn’t let his eyes waver from Dean’s.

“And you didn’t go straight home because you were with Mr. Roman.”

Cas’ steady gaze confirmed Dean’s words.

“I’m gonna kill him,” he growled. “I swear, I’m going to fucking kill him.”

“That sounds ridiculous in context,” Cas said, trying to lighten Dean’s suddenly heavy mood. “You’re in the middle of ten blankets.”

“I don’t care,” he muttered.

Castiel wanted to burrow closer to Dean, but he didn’t know if Dean would want him to, and instead he found himself rambling, which was very out of character.

“You know, at first I was okay with going to Economics because there are only two and a half weeks of first semester left, and I thought I could handle it until then, but this time he was forceful in a way he hadn’t been before and I would’ve been scared if I wasn’t so angry and I…I just…”

“Would it help you to tell me exactly what happened?” Dean asked, green eyes wide and earnest. “Or would that be bad? I’m not sure how this psychological stuff works.”

“You won’t like it,” Cas said.

“Of course I won’t,” he stated. “Someone’s making you do thing you don’t want to, someone that’s not me is _with you_. Someone’s hurting you and I can’t stop them without ensuring they drag you down with them. I absolutely hate it.”

There were several minutes of silence before Cas began.

“He wanted a blowjob this time.” Dean’s eyes were focused solely on Cas, a hatred burning in them that Castiel knew wasn’t meant for him, but would have ample reason to be scared if it was. He took a breath and continued. “On those days, usually I end up doing all the work and he just relaxes. So when he grabbed my head, it surprised me. I let it show though, and that was a mistake. He pushed me onto the ground. He got on top of me.” Cas curled in on himself further. “I couldn’t move and he forced my…he fucked my mouth and it _hurt_ and it was scary in a way it’s never been before.”

The hatred radiating from Dean was practically palpable, but his touch was gentle when he rested a hand on Cas’ neck. “Is this okay?”

Castiel nodded and scooted closer to him. He risked asking, “Can you make me forget?”

“Cas…like I said, I don’t know much about psychology, but I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t be good. It seems wrong.”

Cas sighed. “Will you at least stay?”

“Of course I’ll stay.”

Cas pressed his face to Dean’s chest and fell back asleep.

 

An uncounted amount of time later, Cas nudged Dean. “What time is it?”

Dean pulled his phone from his pocket.  “About seven.”

“Is it too late to do a little digging?”

“Are you sure you still want to tonight?”

“If I didn’t want to, why would I bring it up?”

Dean sighed.  “Yeah, point taken. We can head over to my place, see how far we get. Do you wanna shower first?”

“Yes,” Castiel said definitely. He got up and went about grabbing clean clothes.

“My dad’s gone for a few days,” Dean said, “so you can stay over if you want. Speaking of dads—how did yours take it when you got home?”

Cas froze for a brief second. “He didn’t.  He was asleep.  Drunk.”

“Oh.  So…not well?”

“No, not well.  And be quiet—he’s still in his room.”

“Oh, shit—I didn’t know—“

“It’s fine.  I’m gonna go shower; stay in here.”

 

* * *

 

Left alone in Cas’ room, Dean sat up, several layers of blankets falling around him, and it struck him how strangely Cas reacted to some things, i.e. rape.  Wasn’t it typical for victims to _not_ want to have sex?  That made sense. So why was it like…a motivator for Cas? Or was it? _Make me forget._   Did he treat sex as some sort of eraser, or white out, for happened between him and Mr. Roman? Dean detangled himself from the blankets and leaned against Cas’ dresser. He wished he knew if being intimate with Cas was a good thing or not right now.  Shit, Dean wasn’t a psychologist and he definitely wasn’t a rape specialist—he needed to figure these things out, for Cas’ sake.

He rubbed his eyes, mind drifting to what Benny had said only hours before. His little sister, kidnapped as a baby. This place had a gift for attracting anything overly dramatic in the worst way.

His phone buzzed then, and he answered it. “Hey, Anna.”

“Did Cas get home okay?”

“Yeah, he’s alright. He’s in the shower right now.”

“Why wasn’t he answering his phone?”

“He was lying on the floor, buried in blankets. I doubt he even knew we were calling.”

“So he’s not okay.”

“Well…sort of. I don’t know.”

“Dean, what happened?”

Dean sighed. “If he finds out I told you, I’m saying you tortured it out of me.”

“I’d just make him tell me tomorrow anyway.”

“It was Mr.  Roman.”

The other end of the line was scary silent for several seconds. “I’m going to kill him, I swear to God.”

“That’s what I said.”

“There has to be something we can do.”

“Cas came up with the idea of trying to dig up dirt on him, and that’s what we’re gonna start on as soon as he finishes in the shower.”

“What if there’s nothing there?” Anna asked.

“The guy blackmailed a high school student into having nonconsensual sex. There’s bound to be something.”

“Okay, but what if you don’t find anything?”

“We will.”

“I hope so,” Anna said. “Otherwise I’m going to end up behind bars for killing him.”

“I’m right with you.”

“Gabriel and Balthazar should know,” she said. “I won’t tell, but Cas should.”

“Isn’t it enough that they already know it happens?”

“They’re his best friends, Dean, they’ll want to know.  And if Mr. Roman catches on that they know, maybe he’ll be less likely to do it as often.”

“Maybe.  I’ll tell Cas he should clue Balthazar and Gabe in.”

“If you need any help, call me.”

“I will. See ya tomorrow.”

“See ya.”

 

“Anybody this squeaky clean can’t _actually_ be this squeaky clean,” Dean said two hours later.  They were at his place (in his Dad’s office on his dad’s computer, but John would not be made aware of that) and hadn’t been able to find a single questionable thing about Richard Roman.  But this only convinced Dean that he was hiding something even more.

“Maybe it’s not even worth it,” Cas said.  “After this semester I won’t even have his class anymore.”

“You don’t really believe that’s gonna be the end of it.  We’ll just have to pick through every detail since there was nothing obvious.  No big.  Oh—and Anna called while you were in the shower.”

“Dean,” Cas grimaced before Dean even had a chance to finish.

“It’s not like it’s really a _secret_ anymore.  You told them everything last week.”

“That doesn’t mean I want them knowing every time it happens.  Nobody needs to know about it specifically.  They’re aware it sometimes happens and that’s enough.”

“Okay, okay.  Sorry.  She thinks you should tell Balthazar and Gabe though—and I agree.”

“There’s nothing they can do about it.”

Dean sighed. “Just think about it.  Hey—do you think he’d be into drugs?”

Cas shrugged.  “I didn’t think he’d molest a student repeatedly when I first met him, but he has.  Why?”

“Maybe we could follow him for a while. See where he goes, what he does.”

“It’s worth a shot.”

“Great.  So…tomorrow?  Actually, we should probably wait ‘til the weekend.”

“Sure,” Cas said.  “We could follow him home Friday night and stay with him into Saturday.  Or is that too long?”

“Considering we have no idea what his schedule is, I’d say that’s a good length.  You’ll probably want to bring some comfy clothes to school that you can change into.  Let’s see…he lives here,” Dean said, pointing to a map on the screen, “so there’s a couple places one of us could walk to to get food that aren’t too far away.  We should probably have a little snack food and some things to drink, though.  Preferably caffeinated.”

“Have you done this before?” Cas asked, head canted and eyes squinted.

“Once or twice with my dad,” he answered.  “Mostly it’s just a lot of boring.”  He almost made a comment about what they could do to make it not boring, but then thought better of it.  Not a good day for those kind of remarks, because then he just thought about how much he hated Mr. Roman and all the ways he could bash his skull in.  Plus, they didn’t want to risk missing him leave.  “I’ve had enough of this for one night,” Dean said.  “I’m gonna turn in early.”  He turned off his dad’s computer and checked the desk to make sure nothing was out of place.

“I’m pretty sure you have a fair amount of homework to do first,” Cas said.

Dean groaned.  “I don’t think you realize how _little_ homework I used to do,” Dean complained.

“I don’t care,” Cas said.  “You won’t get away with it with me.”

Dean sighed heavily.  “Fiiiine. We’re going upstairs though.  I don’t want to fall asleep on the couch.”

Once on his bed, Dean got out his Hist Lit book, Algebra II text book, and Field Biology binder.  For the bio test coming up, they were allowed to use a limited amount of notes, and Dean figured he might as well start sorting out what he needed to have written down now, since he was going to be up.  Beside him, Cas leaned back against the wall with his American History book in his lap.

“Is that seriously all you have to do?” Dean asked.

Cas raised his eyes from the text.  “It’s a fairly lengthy reading.  I did my PreCalc last night.  Do your Algebra.”

Dean rolled his eyes and settled down to deal with problems that involved way too many variables, way too many exponents, and not nearly enough composite numbers.  He only had a few problems left when Cas closed his History book and leaned his head against Dean’s shoulder.  He didn’t say anything while Dean finished, and Dean found it wasn’t even distracting—the contact was just comforting.  By the time he solved the last equation, Cas was already out, and rather than start anymore homework, Dean decided Biology could wait and he could just double up on Hist Lit readings next time.  Wrapping an arm around Cas so he wouldn’t tip over, Dean laid him slowly down with him and pulled the blankets up around them.  Cas’ hand found its way to Dean’s side where his fingers tightened around a small chunk of Dean’s shirt.  Dean pressed a kiss to Cas’ forehead and reached over to turn off the light.

He carded his fingers through Cas’ hair a couple times before really nestling down to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Cas had been awake for a good half hour after the dream.  He studied the curve of Dean’s jaw, the arch of his brow, the bridge of his nose, making Dean’s face a map of the dream as he went over it again.  He knew exactly when the dream was set:  the day he’d been planning on dying after Crowley had told Dean the twisted truth.  He was lying on his mother’s bed, but he wasn’t conscious at that point.  His conscience was somewhere else, observing but not interacting.  He was following someone.  He didn’t know who, at first, he couldn’t even see them at all.  He lost time then, or location or _something_ , and found himself back in his mother’s room, staring at himself on the bed, eyes closed.  Suddenly he knew who he’d been following as the person moved their hand to rest on his body’s head.  He would have spoken, but he was observing, that was all.

“Castiel.”

Her voice was perfect.  More exact in tone than his memory could have every produced.

“My sweet boy.  My sweet, sweet boy.  What have you done to yourself?”

Castiel wanted to tell her things were terrible, everything was awful, but he couldn’t.

She ran her thumb over his cheek.  “Life has been so unfair to you.  But you’re not ready for death.  This family doesn’t need anyone else dying; it’s small enough already.  So don’t you quit, Castiel.  Never quit while you can still live.  Don’t you dare stop breathing.  You’re loved too much to leave.  And I know it’s hard, baby.  I know.  You’ve suffered and it’s not right, but it is what it is.  You don’t get to throw it all in.  You need to live.  Live for me, live for your brother, live for the people that love you.  And someday, I hope you can live for yourself, too.  But for now, fight.  Okay, honey?  I need you to keep going.

“My time’s almost up now; I’m going to have to go.  But not you, do you hear me?  Not you.”  She bowed her head to kiss his forehead.  “I’ll see you later, Castiel.  Much later.  I love you.”

She didn’t move to the door, she was just suddenly there, and reached a hand to unlock it.  She turned back one last time to look at Castiel, then opened the door a crack before vanishing.  And Castiel woke up.

Next to him, Dean stirred in his sleep, pulling the blankets tighter around him.  Cas snuggled closer and Dean stopped squirming.  He wondered what Dean was dreaming about.

Suddenly unable to be still anymore, Cas slid out from under the covers and off the bed. He was surprised to see a light on downstairs, and Sam sitting on the couch in the living room.  He didn’t appear to have heard Cas come down.  “Sam?” he said hesitantly.

Sam lifted his head from his hands, startled.  “Oh—hey, Cas.  What’re you doing up?”

“I had a very strange dream and couldn’t fall back asleep. What about you?”

“Same.  But my dream was more bad than strange.”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Would you like company?”

Sam said nothing, but scooted over on the couch.  Castiel went to sit next to him.  For a while, neither spoke, but then Sam said, “It was about Jess.  I dreamed she died in the hit and run.”

“Sam, I’m sorry.  That’s terrible.”

“And it wasn’t like those dreams where you know they’re not real—I felt like I was there.  Literally, standing on the street, watching.  And I couldn’t do anything.  It was so _ugly_ and her body was so broken—“

Castiel patted Sam’s knee.  “But she’s okay.”

Sam snorted.  “I had to convince myself not to call her just to make sure.”

“Do you have nightmares often?” Cas asked.

Sam raised his eyes to Cas’, a momentary internal struggle going on beneath the surface.  “Yeah.”  He dropped his head.  “Don’t tell Dean.  I used to get them a lot when I was a kid, and it really worried him and my dad.  They thought I grew out of it, and so did I, but then we moved here and they started happening again.”

“That’s peculiar.”

“It’s something.”

Cas shifted his gaze to the darkened kitchen and saw Dean standing in the threshold, worried eyes on Sam, body still.  Sam looked to where Cas was looking and froze.  “Dean.”

“Why didn’t you say anything, Sam?”

“Because I didn’t want to worry you and Dad—they’re just nightmares, it’s…it’s no big deal.”

“Really?  You kinda made it sound like it is.”

“That’s just because this one really hit home, okay?  I’m fine.”

Dean exhaled heavily.  “Dad’ll want to know.”

“Don’t be a dick, Dean—he doesn’t need to know.  I didn’t even want _you_ to find out.  Just forget it.  There’s nothing either of you can do.”

“I dunno, beating Lucifer’s brains in might help.”

“Dean, that’s not going to do anything—“

“Isn’t it?  The dream was about Jess, wasn’t it?  You said you were standing on the street, watching.  Lucifer was behind that.”

Sam stood forcefully from the couch, hands in fists at his sides.  “See, this is why I didn’t want to tell you—I knew you’d react like this and things would get all blown out of proportion.  Just leave me alone.”  Sam marched past Dean and back up the stairs, disappearing from sight.

Cas remained sitting and stared at his hands.  He shouldn’t have pressed Sam to talk about it.  He was surprised when the cushion next to him dipped under Dean’s weight, but he didn’t react.

“We shouldn’t have done that in front of you,” he said.  “You have enough problems as it is.”

Cas shook his head.  “No.  I shouldn’t have…I should’ve just left him alone.  He obviously didn’t want to talk about it.”

Cas’ eyes were still cast downward, but he could hear it in Dean’s voice when he gaped.  “Are you kidding me?  That kid needs to get some things out of his system.  It’s a good thing he said something to you.  He never would’ve told me or my dad.  Why were you up, anyway?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Cas said.  “I had a dream, too.”

“Not like Sam’s, I hope.”

“No,” Cas confirmed.  “Not like Sam’s.  It answered some of my questions.”

“What questions?”

Cas met Dean’s eyes. “I’m not sure you’d believe me.”

“I’m like a lie detector, remember?” Dean said.

Castiel bit his lip before beginning.  “I told you I’d locked the door to my mom’s bedroom,” Cas said, “and you told me it had been open.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“I think…I think my mom opened it.”

Dean’s eyes squinted.  “What?”

“It’s stupid, never mind,” Cas said quickly.  “It was probably just my brain trying to give me an explanation with sugar-coating.”

“No,” Dean said.  “No, if that’s what your dream was…I mean, it certainly would explain the door.”

“But it’s unrealistic,” Cas said with a frown.  “I shouldn’t even be considering it.”

Dean took Cas’ hand and laced their fingers together.  He held Cas’ gaze without wavering.  “Just because you can’t explain something with science doesn’t mean it’s bullshit.”

“I know that,” Cas said, “but…it just seems too perfect.  Like someone took a bad situation, wrapped a bow around it, and that makes it all better.”

“Just go with what your gut tells you,” Dean said.  “If you think it was your mom, it was your mom.  I believe you, Cas.”

Cas’ fingers tightened around Dean’s, and he closed his eyes.  It was nice to think his mother was still watching out for him.  Castiel just didn’t know whether he should believe it.


End file.
